


Want Me Around

by nikolayevich



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal, Bi, D/s, M/M, Original Character(s), Rim, Spanking, they're 18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-06-05 19:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15177455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikolayevich/pseuds/nikolayevich
Summary: Liam thought the explicitness of their activities at a party one night would keep Owen Clark, Varsity Football Captain, from ever seeing him again. He was very wrong. When Owen Clark wants something, he gets it.





	1. Co-Curricular Activities

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Sports looked good on college applications. Although Liam wasn’t particularly athletic, he decided to join the swim team. It was quite a change for him. He was always academically inclined, and he enjoyed his coveted class rank at number two. He never truly wanted to be valedictorian. He felt like that was too much pressure. When he transferred, Janine Platt was number 1 and Liam was happy she had it. She was a mousy girl but incredibly too high-strung. She spent too much of her time in extra-curriculars: band, tennis, STUCO, and yearbook. If you named it, she was probably the best at it. Liam didn’t want to work that hard.   
Life was fine for him up until the summer before 9th grade. His parents died in a terrible car crash that somehow left him alive in the backseat. Liam felt like that was the start of his curse. Although he didn’t feel he had any evidence, he was under the impression that it was only a matter of time before every person he knew died in his presence. He became withdrawn and poured himself into his studies. He did his best. He didn’t talk to very many people. Life became tolerable.   
It wasn’t until his sister insisted he join a sport that things truly changed for him. He had lived with her since the accident. She was about ten years older than he was, a child from his father’s previous marriage. He loved her dearly. She did her best to try to make sure he grew into a functioning adult. His sister tried to keep him in the same town he had grown up in, but it didn’t last. She had been offered some cushy job at a firm in Crowley. Liam had moved with her without much of a struggle. He really wanted to get away from the pitying looks that seemed to follow him everywhere he went in his hometown. There went the boy with the dead parents.

Luckily and unluckily, he had transferred his rank, too. He was fine with just sitting on his course load and letting Janine take all the excitement. His sister had other plans in mind. She asked him, really forced him, to join a sport. He chose the swim team because he loved to swim and didn’t really want anything outside. He was prone to sunburns. His sister called him a “baby who was afraid of the sun”. He loved to swim.   
He fit in just fine with his teammates. Although, they complained that he didn’t talk much. He managed to befriend their captain, Mark. He was an overly friendly guy who refused to let Liam sit alone at lunch. He had begged Liam to come to a party every weekend for the last month. Liam relented after much badgering. That interaction had led him to his current predicament.

His first party.

The music was obnoxiously loud. The bass felt like it was pounding in his head. Liam took a drink of the mystery liquid he had been handed by an acquaintance from class. He had asked her what was in it. She had slurred something unintelligible back at him. He had choked down a taste of the pink liquid. It was nasty. It tasted like it was comprised of 95% liquor and 5% punch.

He pushed through a crowd of people who were meandering in the doorway of the kitchen. He nodded goodbye to the girl who served him punch and made his way towards wherever his friend Mark was hidden. He glanced down at his phone. Mark had texted saying he was in a sitting room off to the side of the living room. He wasn’t sure who owned this house, but it was really swanky. He was embarrassed when he pulled up and parked his beater car on the road. He felt like he looked out-of-place in the rows of manicured lawns and gigantic homes.

He finally found the right room after a few minutes. It was a little too dark for him to clearly make out all the occupants of the room. Luckily, he found Mark in an extra puffy armchair with a girl on his lap. The room itself was smoky. There were kids smoking pot in the corner. Liam crinkled his nose at the smell. Underage drinking? Check. Drug use? Check. Liam half-expected to hear a cop saying, “Book-em, boys”.

“Dude! I didn’t think you’d make it!” Mark exclaimed, grinning. His smile was a little lop-sided. And he looked like he had actually combed his brown hair. His usual bed head looked semi-tamed by hair gel. He was Liam’s first friend at Crowley High. Only because he was very aggressive with his friendship. It was hard not to become friends with someone who was that personable.

The girl on his lap had a sun-kissed tan and dark brown hair. It curled and hung down to the middle of her back. She turned to look at him and gave him a smile over the rim of her cup.  
“Hey,” Liam responded. He chugged a bit of his drink. He walked over closer to his friend.   
“This is my girlfriend, Christy,” Mark announced, squeezing the girl in his lap around her hips. “Christy, this is Liam.”  
The girl batted her long eyelashes at him. They framed her deep blue eyes, but Liam had a feeling they weren’t her real eyelashes. “Hi,” she said, her voice low.   
“Hey.” He said, nodding at her. He always clammed up around girls. He wasn’t even sure how he had managed to kiss the few girls he had actually kissed.

Christy hopped off Mark’s lap. She readjusted her sequined top. “I heard you’re doing pretty well in swim.” She gave him a dazzling smile and tucked a loose piece of her hair behind her ear.   
“Thank you,” he responded, sounding stiffer than he wanted to. He wasn’t sure how long he could handle small talk. He glanced over at Mark for assistance, but he was texting. “You’re a cheerleader, right?” He asked. She nodded but didn’t say anything else. Fuck. Luckily, one of Christy’s friends called her name over the music. She kissed her boyfriend goodbye and disappeared into the crowd of people.

Mark stood from his chair a little clumsily. He caught himself before he spilled his glass. “I’m glad you made it. Have you met Owen? He is the host after all.” He practically yelled over the music. He came to stand next to Liam.

“Who?” Liam asked.

Mark rolled his eyes. “You know, Captain of Varsity football and the star quarterback? Our fearless leader? The savior of the American dream?” He asked, feigning a horrified tone.   
“Oh,” Liam responded, dumbly. “I’ve heard of him. But I haven’t met him.”

His response seemed to excite Mark. “Well, we’d better go pay our respects.” He winked at Liam.

They made their way over to another room. The room was spacious and had a large hanging chandelier in the middle of it. Judging from the table in the middle and the chairs shoved over to the side, this was the formal dining room. They had beer pong set up on what looked like a table that was very expensive. There were two boys on one side and two girls on the other. Students milled around drinking and talking. Some watched with vested interest. The girls only had one cup in front of them while the other team had five in front of them. The girls looked like twins with bright blonde hair and similar dresses. They didn’t seem to be doing so well in the sobriety department. They were giggling and grasping onto each other. One girl threw a ball at one of the innocent bystanders. The girls erupted into to giggles again. 

Mark took some time and pointed at individuals and listed their names and various attributes. Liam knew he wasn’t going to remember them. He wasn’t really paying attention. His eyes intently watched one of the guy’s playing beer pong.

The guy felt familiar. His blond hair was perfectly in place even though he kept running his hands through it when the girls scrambled around to pick up the pong balls that they’d lost. Liam could make out the movement of the guy’s muscles under his shirt as he sunk a ball into one of the cups. His laughter kept Liam’s attention. It sounded like a bell toll – deep and resonant. Liam could feel the sound all the way in his stomach. The guy must have won the game for his team. The friends around him cheered at his victory, while the girls on the other side pretended to be upset at their loss.   
“Hey, Owen!” Mark called out, gaining the attention of blond. He said parting words to his teammate and headed over.  
“What’s up?” Owen asked. He pulled Mark into a side hug. “Glad you could make it, dude.” Owen was close enough that Liam could see the freckles that dotted the other’s tan face.

Mark broke apart from the embrace. He gestured towards Liam. “This is Liam.” He declared, proud to be the first to introduce Liam to him. As if Liam was something special. “He’s new to Crowley this year. He made Varsity Swim. I have to say, he’s pretty talented. Not more talented than me, obviously.” Mark smirked and winked at Liam.

Owen turned his gaze towards Liam. He seemed to be looking intently at Liam’s face. Liam felt his face burn at the look. He chugged more of his drink before acknowledging the other. He felt it burn all the way down his throat. “Nice to meet you,” Liam said and offered his hand towards the other. Owen regarded the appendage for long enough to make Liam think that maybe hand-shaking wasn’t a cool thing to do. But before he could retract the hand, Owen gripped it with his.

“Nice to meet you.” He responded. It must have been the liquor, but Liam swore that Owen had held his hand a little longer than necessary.   
Light blue eyes held Liam’s for a moment before Owen said, “I think we have some classes together. AP English, US History, and maybe AP Physics.”   
Liam blinked at him in response. Confused. He felt his face flush once again.

“I sit in the back.” Owen chuckled, noticing his confusion. “I bet I’m hard to notice when you spend so much time doing your work. You ever just take a day to relax, dude?”

“Sometimes.” Liam felt like his mouth was dry. This was what happened in his old school. People thought he was a nerd because he spent so much time on his work.

Owen took a swig of his drink and looked beyond the two of them. “Mark, is that your girl over there grinding on a freshman?” He asked, his tone sounding unsurprised.

Mark whipped around. Liam didn’t look but figured Owen was telling the truth the way Mark disappeared from his side.

That left Liam alone with Owen and Liam was terrible at small talk. He was hoping the other would bid him a goodbye and slide back over to his other friends, but he continued to stand there. He didn’t like the way Owen was looking at him. He felt appraised. He shifted from foot to foot.

Liam went to take a drink of his drink, but realized, with some misery, that his solo cup was empty. Damn. In his nervousness, he had managed to chug the whole cup.

“I’m out of beer,” Owen commented. “You want another one?”   
“I think I’m good. That last drink I had was gross. I don’t even think they put a mixer in it.”   
Owen shrugged. “Probably didn’t. I keep the good stuff up in my room if you want one. I bet it tastes better than whatever hell punch you put in your mouth.” Liam couldn’t shake the intense gaze that Owen was giving. Liam’s mouth felt dry. Maybe another drink was a good idea, he reasoned.

 

“That sounds good.” He responded, but his voice didn’t sound confident when it left his mouth. 

And just like that, Liam followed Owen through another room and up the large staircase. Liam glanced at some of the photos on the wall. It seemed like Owen was an only child, judging from the photos of him and his parents.

 

Owen kept his door locked, Liam noted. It was probably to keep out less than angelic party guests. The lock itself felt out-of-place to him. He hadn’t been in many houses where the bedrooms had real keys and real locks. Liam gnawed on his bottom lip. Did the guy really party enough to warrant a locked bedroom? Or was there another reason he locked his door?

There were people in the hallway. A couple was making out against the upstairs railing. A girl was puking into a potted plant while another girl held her hair. No one even looked up as Owen unlocked the door. He stepped in and ushered Liam inside.

Owen shut and locked the door behind him. Liam must have still looked suspicious because Owen explained, “I don’t want Randoms in my room.”

“Fair enough.” Liam shrugged, nonchalantly. It wasn’t best to pry into these types of things. Even though he wanted to remark that he was a ‘random’ in Owen’s room. He kept his mouth shut, however.

Owen’s room felt clinical. He had a gigantic flat screen across from his bed. Liam looked away, forcing himself not to gape at it. Owen’s bed seemed comfortable. Liam thought the room looked nice with its grey and blue tones, but it felt stiff to him. It didn’t feel lived in. There weren’t any photos or trophies or any clothes on the floor. 

Owen made his way through a door that presumably lead to the bathroom.

Not knowing what else to do, he called after him, “Can I take my shoes off?” He felt like the room was spinning and he just wanted to sit down.

“Sure, dude. Make yourself comfortable.” Was the response, as Owen returned with two bottles of beer.

“Bathroom beer?” Liam inquired, startled.

Owen glanced down at the bottles in confusion. He laughed after a moment. “Oh, right, there’s a mini-fridge in there.”

The room was much quieter than the rest of the house. Liam felt like he could complete a thought. He plopped down onto the carpeted floor and began to take his converse off. The carpet itself was soft and a nice cream color. Liam pressed his hand against the floor and began to rub it. It was really soft. He wondered how much this kind of carpet would cost. His house was full of hardwood, no carpet. He wanted to lay down and press his face into it.

Owen handed him one of the glass bottles of beer. It was already opened. He took a swig of it and grimaced.   
“Not your type?” Owen asked, sitting down next to him. “You look like an IPA type. I only have Stella, sorry.” He chuckled. They were almost touching shoulders and Liam could smell Owen. He smelled good. Like a mixture of soap and some type of wood. It must have been his cologne because Liam had never smelled anything like it. It was like had showered and then rolled around in the woods. Liam laughed and pressed his hand against his eyes. That was stupid.   
“You okay?” Owen asked, locking his phone and dropping it into his lap.   
“Fine,” He sniggered. He didn’t want to go about explaining what he had been thinking about. He looked over at Owen. The guy really did look some sort of model. Maybe he did spend his time in the woods in his underwear. Liam laughed again.   
Owen looked at him seemingly enjoying Liam’s laughter. He opened his mouth to say something when someone began to bang on the bedroom door. Owen groaned and got to his feet. He placed his beer on his dresser and went over to the door. He stepped out.   
Liam laid down on the carpet. He pressed his face into it. It really was soft. He giggled. It was much quieter upstairs, but he could feel the bass bumping through the floor. The bedroom door slammed. Liam removed his face from the carpet enough to speak to the intruder. “Was it the police? Is there a stick-up?” He started to giggle again.   
“Dude,” Owen remarked incredulously from above him. “You’re blitzed.”

Liam guessed he was drunk. He felt hot and confused but he also felt happy. He pressed his face back into the carpet. “’M not,” Liam murmured into the floor.   
“Yeah, sure.” The blonde chuckled and pressed his hand against Liam’s shoulder, urging him to roll over. “Guess you didn’t party much at your old school.”

Liam rolled on to his back and looked up at the boy kneeling over him. “I’ve never drank before.” He whispered, half-ashamed.

Owen’s eyes widened and he swore, “and you drank trash can punch? Shit. You’re lucky you’re not puking everywhere.”

Liam numbly pushed his hair out of his face. “Like the girl in the hallway?” He responded.  
Owen looked alarmed. “What girl in the hallway?”

“The one puking in the plant.”

Owen rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and let out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck. That’s not good. I’m going to have to pay the cleaning lady extra out of my allowance to keep this a secret.” Owen sank down onto the ground next to Liam. He leaned up against a bedpost. His leg was precariously close to Liam’s head. They sat quietly for a moment.

“I have a question,” Liam stated. He wouldn’t admit to himself that it sounded a bit slurred. “How do you look so tan when it’s cold outside?”

That question seemed to catch Owen off guard because he laughed a full belly laugh that had Liam smiling along. “I get in the tanning bed,” he replied, tapping the top of Liam’s forehead.

“What?” Liam responded, incredulous. “That will give you cancer.”

“Kidding, kidding. Wow, what a goody two shoes.”   
Liam huffed in response.

Owen’s phone chimed. He looked down at it, scoffed, and pushed it under the bed.

Liam felt himself wanting to sleep. Things were starting to appear blurry and it was harder to keep his eyes open. He closed his eyes, but he could feel Owen’s eyes on him. His mind couldn’t decipher why.

“Your hair.” Owen’s voice was breathy. It felt far away and close by at the same time.

“Hmm?” Liam responded, trying to open one heavy eyelid.   
“I like the color.” His voice sounded closer now. It was then that Liam felt the hand in his hair. Owen merely ran his fingers through his hair and stroked his scalp. Liam’s sister played with his hair, sometimes, but it was nothing like this. He felt his skin erupt in goosebumps. “I haven’t seen hair this dark before.”

“Like ink.” Liam declared while bringing up an unsteady hand to rub his eyes. He could barely keep them open. “Like spilled ink. Nothing nice.”

Owen laughed in response. “If you say so.” His hand left Liam’s hair. “Are you a novelist? That was quite the simile.” His voice was only a little taunting.

Liam felt exhausted. He felt a lot like he did after his parents died. He had gotten into the pool and swam for hours. He had to practically crawl out of the pool. He was too exhausted to go inside. So, he laid upon one of the deck chairs. He had hoped it would be like old times. His mother would come out and scold him for working too hard. His father would chastise him but secretly praise him when his mother wasn’t looking. They didn’t come. His sister did. She held him and cried. Liam shook the thought away. Now was not the time to dredge up old wounds.

The room was quiet, but Liam could still hear the music downstairs, but it seemed farther away now. He could hear Owen’s calm breathing. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his head.

“You have a girlfriend?”

Liam shook his head, sleepily. His head bumped into Owen’s thigh, accidentally. “You?” He responded.   
Owen responded after a moment. “Does it matter?”

Liam didn’t respond. Owen’s hand carded through his hair once again. 

“You can’t sleep on the floor, dude.” Owen murmured, shaking him awake. The house was suddenly a lot quieter. “The party ended.”

“I’ll go home,” Liam mumbled rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He hadn’t remembered falling asleep. He just remembered Owen touching his hair. He flushed. Must have been the drinks. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. He could see Owen’s alarm clock on his bedside table. The time read 2:52 AM. Fuck.

“You have a curfew?” Owen asked, sensing his panic.

Liam shook his head. His sister was out-of-town. She was actually the reason he was at the party in the first place. She had demanded, over the phone, for Liam to go out with his friends. “I’ll sell your PS4 on eBay for 10 dollars if you don’t leave the house, Liam. You’re depressing me.” Liam really liked his PS4. “I’m home alone this weekend.”

“Me too.” Owen responded. His voice sounded throaty. Liam wondered if he was getting sick.

Owen offered him a hand. When Liam took it, Owen pulled him to his feet. He was a little shaky on his feet. He wasn’t sure all the alcohol had left his system. The blonde steadied him with his hands-on Liam shoulders. Liam could feel the warmth of his hands all the way through his shirt. They stood there for a moment. Liam could truly feel their height difference. Liam felt nervous. He couldn’t push away for fear he might fall over. He studied the collar of his shirt. He could see Owen’s pulse in his neck.

Liam let his eyes travel up Owen’s throat. His chin was defined, and Liam could make out the stubble there. Liam looked up into Owen’s eyes. He always thought it was a sappy exaggeration when people in books would say they ‘got lost in his eyes’. Dark blue and intense, they bore down into his soul. He felt like Owen could see right through him. Liam grimaced. His sister had made him watch too many sappy movies.

Liam had wrench his eyes away from Owen’s. So, he took in the other parts of Owen’s face. It didn’t seem like the other had plans to let him go any time soon. He glanced at the smattering of freckles on Owen’s straight nose. Liam began to panic. Why were they just standing there? Liam dared a look at Owen’s lips. They were pink and pursed as if he was going to-

Liam felt lips smash down on his own. 

Owen kissed him.

 

Owen was kissing him.

 

Lips pressed against his, hot and hard. The hands on his shoulders moved to his hips and pulled him, hard, against the other body. Liam left his own arms hanging limply at the side of his body. He felt his mouth open, unbidden, to allow in Owen’s tongue. He let out a throaty moan. His eyes slid closed. He felt like he couldn’t control his body. It must have been the liquor. He didn’t mind the kissing, he thought. He felt like he should push away or maybe punch the guy, but he couldn’t. Although he had only kissed a few girls, this was completely different. Owen’s jaw was strong and he kissed aggressively. He dug his fingers into Liam’s hips. Liam let out a sound that sounded suspiciously like a squeak.

Owen moved them around and shoved Liam backward onto the side of the bed. Liam, confused and out of breath, stared up at Owen in shock. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and waited for an explanation. His chest fluttered with panting gasps.

Owen examined him closely. His knees were almost touching Liam’s. His eyes were unreadable but searching for something. “Are you gay?” Owen asked, his voice hoarse.   
Gay? His mind began to panic. “Are you?” retorted Liam. Owen didn’t respond but stared at him blankly. Feeling uncomfortable under the gaze, Liam whispered, “no.”

Owen nodded. It was a short jerky movement that looked a little painful. “Me either.” He said.

Liam sighed with relief. He couldn’t truly answer if he was gay or not. He had some suspect fantasies about the guys on the swim team, but that was only when he was asleep. Being with girls was great, right? He flushed thinking about the kiss. He gnawed on his bottom lip. It had been a mistake. They were going to forget about it and move on. 

 

Wrong. 

Owen reached behind his head and pulled off his cotton t-shirt. Liam stared, dumbly, at Owen’s abs. He didn’t know that football could give you a six-pack. Liam dragged his eyes up Owen’s chest and glanced at his face. The blonde’s lips were curled into a self-satisfied smirk. Liam felt apprehensive. Why was he looking at him that way?

Owen climbed on top of him and captured his lips again. His body was hard and heavy on top of Liam’s. Owen’s hand traveled up the bed and snaked itself into Liam’s hair. Owen’s hips ground against Liam’s and he bit back a strangled moan. It was too much. He had never felt like this before. He had never been so nervous, but he had also never been so hard. Owen sank his teeth into Liam’s bottom lip and tightened his grip in Liam’s black hair. Liam arched up against him and let out a keening moan. Did he even like guys? He screwed his eyes shut. He could feel himself getting very hard in his jeans. It was just kissing, right? It wasn’t that big of a deal.

Owen moved away from his mouth and down to Liam’s throat. His other hand moved up underneath Liam’s shirt and stroked his side. His mouth attacked Liam’s neck. He bit the flesh of Liam’s throat.

Liam, however, laid there like an idiot. His hands were laying dumbly at his sides and his mouth was wide open. He panted helplessly. He didn’t want to think about the sounds coming out of his mouth.

Girls had never kissed him like this. Girls had never touched him like this.   
His brain tried to catch up with what was happening. He managed to pant out, “I thought you weren’t gay.”

Owen stilled above him. Liam whined at the sudden lack of contact. Owen straddled Liam’s legs with his own and held himself over Liam. He stared down at him. Liam flushed under the scrutiny. “Do you want me to stop?” Owen asked with a voice that held an air of self-assurance. Like he knew Liam wouldn’t resist.

Liam stared into Owen’s eyes. Again. There was that feeling of being completely vulnerable. Like he knew everything about him. Like he could see every thought he had. He shook his head in the negative. He wanted more. Was it the liquor? Was it the burning in his stomach? He didn’t know.

A smile stretched across Owen’s face and Liam’s stomach fluttered. Liam looked away, feeling powerless to stop the hammering of his heart in his chest. Did Owen feel as confused as Liam did?

Liam waited for Owen to lay on top of him again, but he didn’t. He leaned back onto his knees, barely hovering over Liam’s thighs. Owen moved his attentions to Liam’s shirt. He pushed up the hem of his shirt an inch to reveal the pale skin of his stomach. He gripped Liam’s hips and rubbed his hip bones with his thumbs.

“You’re very petite.” Owen whispered, appreciatively. “Lithe.” Liam squirmed. Owen pulled Liam’s shirt off. Liam knew he was flushed all the way to his chest. His skin was too pale to hide his embarrassment. Owen admired his chest and reached up to squeeze one of Liam’s nipples. Liam hissed in response.

“You’re even prettier like this,” Owen said in a voice that sounded suspiciously like a coo. He leaned forward and reconnected their bodies. He caught Liam’s lips again. It was a searing, brutal kiss. It held none of the hesitancy as before.

Owen ground his hips against Liam’s. He ripped his lips away from the other, panting. “You-you’re…” Liam choked on his words. Liam could feel Owen smile into his neck.   
“What? Hard for you?” Owen teased. “Surely, you’re not that obtuse.” He pressed a kiss into the crook of Liam’s neck.   
“I’ve never,” He started but was cut off by the way Owen was sucking on his neck. “Listen.” He demanded, pushing the other back.

Owen let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, I know, you’ve never had sex with a guy.”

Liam brought his hands up to his face. “No.” He spoke through his fingers. “I’ve never done anything. With anyone.”

“Oh.”   
Liam began to ramble. His thoughts poured out of his mouth, “Do you know what you’re doing? I don’t. I think someone can get like injured and stuff like this. If, uh, you know, we’re heading where I think we’re heading. I mean I guess I’m okay with it. I mean I am okay with it. I’m having a good time.” He couldn’t think clearly.

Owen was looking at him with mild amusement. “I know what I’m doing.” His eyes were dark. “Now, shut up.”

Owen went back to his throat. He mouthed over Liam’s throat and bit his skin in a way that wasn’t quite hard enough but still drove him insane. Owen began to kiss a line down his chest. Liam couldn’t tell what was louder, his breath or his heartbeat. All Liam could do was watch Owen’s blonde hair travel down to his navel. He sucked on the flesh neck to Liam’s hip bones. Liam moaned and arched up. He was deliriously aroused. He could feel Owen everywhere. His fingers scraped down Liam’s ribcage. Something that should have hurt him felt extremely overwhelming. His hands stopped at Liam’s jeans. He popped the button his jeans and pulled down the zipper. He pulled back and stood on the floor between Liam’s legs.

Before Liam could even truly register what was happening, his jeans and boxers were removed. He realized that he must have rolled his hips in order to aid their removal. Exposed and breathless, he reached to cover himself with his hands. His arms were pressed into the bed with a firm grip.

“Keep them here,” Owen demanded. “Don’t move them.”

Bossy Liam thought, but he nodded slowly in response. The grip on his wrists was a little too hard for his liking. He wanted to squirm away. With nothing else to do, he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Only to open them up again when Owen gripped his cock. A strangled moan left his lips as the other began to stroke him.   
“Can I fuck you?” Owen asked hurriedly while his hand expertly moved on Liam’s cock.   
Liam felt apprehensive but he moaned, “yes.” As long as he kept touching him like that, he’d let him do whatever he wanted. Owen’s stepped away and the sensation left his cock. He whined at the loss. He watched as Owen moved to get some sort of lube out of his bedside table.   
When he returned, he murmured, “Don’t worry. I’ll make it good for you.” He stroked Liam’s thigh.

Liam shut his eyes once again, waiting for the inevitable pain of penetration. He had heard that it was extremely painful your first time. Instead, he felt his jerked apart. He opened his eyes, in confusion, to find Owen kneeling between his legs. The other gave him a cocky smile before swallowing his cock whole. Liam couldn’t explain the noise that came out of his mouth even if he tried. He had never felt anything like it before. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.

He let out a stream of unintelligible words. The hot, wet suction turned his brain to mush.  
Liam barely registered when he felt something pressing there. It was uncomfortable but he ignored it.

Every time he felt the discomfort of what he now realized were fingers, Owen’s hot mouth and tongue brought him back to full hardness. It took him a moment to realize he was battling the urge to thrust up into that wanting mouth or to push back on the fingers inside of him. He felt his orgasm building within him. The fingers brushed something inside of him and he came with a scream.

His fingers disentangled themselves from the comforter. He covered his eyes with his right arm and gasped for air. He had never had an orgasm like that before. Owen had removed his mouth and fingers from Liam’s pliant body. His hand moved to stroke Liam’s thigh.

“Roll over.” He ordered, his voice throaty.

Liam obeyed. Although he had hoped that would be the extent of their sexual contact, he wasn’t so inane to think that was truly the case. His limbs felt like they were full of water, but he moved to his knees and leaned forward.

Liam might have had half a sense of decency to react negatively to being ordered around. He stared down at the comforter below him and captured his bottom lip between his teeth. His coaches and teachers loved him because he did what they asked without complaint. He had never felt the need to truly rebel against anything. It lead to his life being particularly boring, but it kept him out of trouble. So, now it was easy to follow orders. Move your leg here. Put your arm there. He would do it.

Owen, now completely disrobed, was placing gentle kisses against Liam’s shoulder blades. His voice was filled with a barely contained excitement as he said, “You’re so beautiful.”

Liam flushed, feeling uncomfortable. Guys didn’t really want to be called beautiful, right? Then why did he feel pleased by this compliment?   
Owen leaned forward, covering Liam’s body with his own. He pressed a kiss behind Liam’s ear. “This is the worst part, but it will feel good, I promise.” Owen moved his body off of Liam. Liam could feel the wet pressure and slunk down onto his elbows. He whimpered into his arms. Owen seated himself within Liam’s body. It felt odd. All of the earlier pressure had been zapped out of him. Owen leaned forward once again and gripped Liam’s cock with his hand. Only when Liam began to harden again, squirm, and moan from the ministrations did Owen begin to move inside of him. Liam arched helplessly into the feeling. He moaned into the soft fabric beneath him. The nerves in his body sang from the friction. It didn’t take him long to begin sobbing utter nonsense as Owen managed to strike that spot within him. Liam’s muddled brain pieced the word prostate together, but he didn’t pay much mind. He couldn’t keep up. His brain couldn’t focus. He was trying to focus on the hand on his cock, or the not quite there bites that were being placed on his back, or the hand that was an iron grip on his hip. God. He was being fucked -no, used- by a guy who he barely knew. A guy he had never spoken to before tonight. He desperately wanted to care. He couldn’t. Not with how rapidly his climax was building within him. Not with the way stars burst in his eyes when his prostate was hit.

He came hard with a long, drawn-out wail. Owen let go of his cock and grabbed both of his hips. He began to slam into him. He fucked him hard and came quickly. Owen rested his head between Liam’s shoulder blades. They both breathed. Owen pulled out and rolled over onto his back. He was breathing heavily.

“I wore… a condom.” Owen wheezed, clearly out of breath. “If you were wondering why you’re not full of my cum.”

Liam brought a hand up to rub the sweat off of his face. He guessed that was the reason he hadn’t felt anything, but he didn’t truly know the mechanics of gay sex. He just nodded. He felt his face burn at the nonchalance of the other’s comment. Liam was suspiciously sticky. He felt Owen’s hand gently touch his hair. Liam shook it off and sat up abruptly.

He turned and gave Owen a brief look. He tried to ignore the way his sweat glistened on his muscled body. Fuck. The other gave Liam a sloppy smile that made his stomach flutter.

“Can I shower?” He asked, hurriedly. He wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible but he couldn’t bear to put his clothes on over the rapidly drying fluids that were covering his body.

Owen nodded. “Towels are in the closet.”

Liam almost sprinted to the bathroom. He shut the door firmly and locked it. He tried not to gape at the size of the room. The bathroom held a claw sized tub and a glass shower with more than one shower head. Owen’s walk-in closet was to the right on the sink. Liam could see a lot of clothes in there.

“This is fucking opulence,” Liam cursed, as he riled around the linen closet. The towers were fluffy and white. He grabbed one and set it on the counter as he moved to turn on the shower. He stepped away to let it heat up. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror. He took in his pale skin that was covered in quickly darkening bruises. His black hair was disheveled. He looked thoroughly fucked. His green eyes stared back at him with judgment. The skin beneath them was darkening as well from his lack of sleep.

Not wanting to look at himself any longer, he got into the shower. He pressed his forehead against the tiled wall as he scrubbed himself. He tried to ignore the new places that were sore. When he finished, he toweled off. He stepped out of the bathroom hesitantly.

Owen was texting on his phone. He looked up and smirked when Liam walked in. “Shy much?” He teased, taking in the towel around his waist. Liam refused to meet his eyes and took in other parts of the room. Owen had stripped the comforter off the bed. It lay crumpled at the foot of the bed.   
Owen brushed past him and Liam could feel the quick contact of Owen’s finger against his side. When Liam turned to look at him, he was already turning on the shower. Liam shook his head and rummaged around for his clothes. He slipped on his boxers and his jeans. He tried not to think about how awkward it was going to be to pretend like nothing had happened at school. His body’s reaction to that fleeting touch proved his worst fears. He was hooked. 

But he was also nothing to Owen. He needed to remember that.

 

He found his shirt crumpled up under the bed. His iPhone was next to his barely drank bottle of beer. He sat on the floor. He ignored any residual discomfort. He pulled on his socks and shoes. He stood with the intention to escape as quickly as possible, but Owen left the bathroom in flannel pajama bottoms.   
“Oh,” He said, taking in Liam’s state of dress. He was rubbing his wet hair with his towel. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes,” Liam responded. The guy didn’t need to pretend like he wanted him to stay.

“Are you sure? It’s barely four.”

“I have to go. I need to feed my cat.” Liam explained. It felt like a stupid response. They had an automatic feeder for the cat.

“Okay,” Owen responded, chucking his towel onto the bed. “Let me walk you out.”

Liam wanted to refuse but relented.

The walk down the staircase was a quiet one. There were people sleeping, or passed out, all over the place. Liam wanted to say something to Owen, like ‘thanks for the sex’ or something, but every time he opened his mouth nothing came out. 

They stopped in the foyer. Liam patted his pockets to make sure he had his phone, his keys, and his wallet. Owen stared at him, his blue eyes evaluative. “Liam.” He said. Liam stared at him, waiting.

“Hey!” Mark emerged from another room, cutting off whatever Owen was about to say. “I thought I heard other people. Let’s go to IHOP!”

Liam gave Owen one last parting glance before exiting out the front door.

He could hear Mark ask, “What’s wrong with him?”

Liam could barely make out Owen’s response of, “Hungover” as he slammed the front door shut. He sat in his car for some time before he could finally manage to convince his shaking hands to put the key in the ignition.


	2. What part of "go away" do you not understand?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im on vacation for a few weeks! I'm not dead!

Liam spent the next two days holed up in his house. He wanted to spend the whole weekend subsisting off of pizza rolls and orange juice. He didn’t end up doing that, however. He didn’t want to spend practice on Monday puking. Coach would probably make him continue to swim through his own vomit. He passed many hours pretending like nothing had happened on Friday. Denial wasn’t the best coping method, but he didn’t think he could process the events any other way.

Monday rolled around and he suffered through swim practice. He received minor teasing from his teammates regarding the various hickeys that littered his chest and neck. His Coach, a burly man with an exaggerated Boston accent, just scoffed at him. Mark grilled him about who his love affair while they were getting changed in the locker-room.

“Who is she?” Mark asked, slipping his feet into his tennis shoes. He had spent at least ten minutes bragging about how he had still gotten laid that night, even though he had been fighting with his girlfriend. Liam grimaced at the vivid details.

Liam shrugged. He hoped that Mark didn’t want him to give a play by play of his sexual adventure.  
Mark’s eyes grew wide and he laughed. “You don’t know her name! You slut.”

“It was a one-time event. It’ll never happen again.” He responded, trying to keep his voice as apathetic as possible. He had spent the entire weekend trying to get losing his virginity out of his head. His skin felt like it was on fire whenever he thought about Owen. It embarrassed him. School was starting soon. He had to find some way

“Well,” Mark said, picking up his phone from beside him. “I bet you’ll see each other soon. I’m so proud of you for losing your virginity.” He stood and placed one hand on Liam’s shoulder. “My baby’s growing up. He finally touched his first boob.” He placed one hand over his face and began to fake cry, loudly.

“Shut the fuck up.” Liam hissed. “I was not a virgin. I’ve totally touched boobs before.”

Mark let go of his face and laughed. “Just because you touched both of this girl’s boobs, doesn’t mean you’ve touched boobs before. Girls generally have two.”  
“Fuck off,” Liam growled, half-heartedly pushing Mark away.

Mark continued to laugh and grabbed his bag. “See you tomorrow, Liam. Congrats on the sex.” He waved at him and left the locker room.

Liam put his elbows on his knees and held his face in his hands. He groaned. He had royally fucked up. There were still so many days of school left. He knew he was going to have to see Owen in class every single day. He was already suffering and it had only been two days. He couldn’t stop thinking about his laugh, or his eyes, or his stupid blonde hair. He wanted to scream.

 

Liam breathed out the smoke from his cigarette. He was seated on the hood of his car. It was frigid and it made Liam regret that he had left the house with only a hoodie as protection from the cold. His car wouldn’t start, again. He normally didn’t smoke. It was really bad for his health, but it was a habit he picked over the summer. He probably shouldn’t have been smoking in the parking lot of the high school, but he didn’t care about that either. An ambulance passed by on the road. Even now, he felt empty. Cold on the outside, cold on the inside.

He didn’t know what to do. They hadn’t had class that day but he was required to come to campus to swim. Columbus Day or not. They had to be there. Coach was very adamant about that. There weren’t many cars in the parking lot. There was no one he could really call. He had planned to flag down one of the other guys on the team, but it seemed he was the last person to leave practice. He looked down at his phone, half tempted to call his sister. She was still out of town.

Fuck. He dropped his cigarette and stamped it out into the ground.

“That’s littering, you know.” A voice called from behind him.

Liam turned quickly, nearly falling off the hood of his car in the process. Smooth. He stood.

It was Owen.

“You scared me.” He said, accusingly. He felt himself blush. Just what he needed at this exact moment. His car was busted and now Owen was going to give him the ‘I’m straight, stay away from me’ speech.

Owen had an easy smirk on his face. He was wearing a dark quarter-zip pull-over with dark wash jeans. He was holding a football under his arm. “Sorry,” he replied, sounding anything but apologetic. “Why are you hanging out here with your hair wet?”

“Had practice,” he said, simply. He leaned against the side of his car. He hoped he was giving off the vibe of relaxed confidence.

Owen looked unconvinced. They hadn’t exchanged a single word since the incident, but Liam had to think that was a proximity issue more than anything. It wasn’t like they had exchanged phone numbers and goodbye kisses. Liam wasn’t stupid enough to think that Owen was going to profess his love for him and demand that they become boyfriends. Liam just hoped the guy wouldn’t start picking on him as some sort of revenge.

“So, you’re just standing out here with ripped jeans, an old hoodie, and wet hair because you had practice that ended what,” he paused and readjusted the football so he could glance at his watch, “30 minutes ago?”

Liam shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the cracked concrete of the parking lot.

“Your ears are red.” Owen reached up and covered Liam’s ears. The football fell to the ground and rolled near the front wheel of Liam’s car. Liam made a noise of protest. “And freezing,” Owen added.

Liam pushed Owen’s hands off of his ears. “My car won’t start.”

“Ah.” Owen said. He seemed satisfied with that answer. “That wasn’t so hard.”

Liam huffed in response. He refused to make eye contact with the other. He really was trying to squash down all of the inappropriate memories that surfaced whenever he looked at Owen.   
“I’ll take you home. I’d offer to jump it, but I don’t have any cables.” Owen said. His voice held an air of easy authority. He started to lean close to Liam. Liam thought he was going to kiss him again. He felt his pulse race. Owen bent over to pick up the football. Liam pushed down the weird feeling of disappointment that was bubbling in his stomach. He didn’t want to kiss him. He wanted him to go away.  
He had tried to not think about Owen. And he had failed.

“Do you have anything you need to grab from your car?” Owen asked, sending a distasteful glance at Liam’s car.

“No.” He usually left his swim gear in his locker.

“Come on,” Owen said. “You can tell me how to get to your house once we get you warmed up in the car.” Owen urged Liam to follow him to his green Jeep.

Liam was happy that the jeep had its doors on. Liam thought he was always going to be scarred by the car accident. He never thought he would be able to be a passenger in someone’s car right after his parents died. But for some reason, he felt nothing when he got into a car. 

Liam opened the door and slid into the leather seat. He buckled his seatbelt and looked around. It was fairly clean. Although, there were a lot of clothes in his backseat. Owen got into the driver’s seat and threw the football into the back.

“Why were you at school?” Liam asked, trying not to pay too much attention to Owen as he put on his sunglasses and checked his reflection in the mirror.

Owen put the key in the ignition and the jeep roared to life. “I was meeting with our head coach about the freshman,” He responded.

“Oh.” Liam looked out the window at his car. It looked sad in its parking spot. They backed out

Liam gave Owen directions to his house. The ride was silent for a few minutes as Liam warmed his hands against the vents. He avoided looking at Owen. He didn’t know what he should say. ‘Hi, I’ve been thinking about you the entire weekend?’ Sounded a bit transparent for Liam’s tastes.

What came out of his mouth was, “Jeep Wranglers have a high roll-over rate.”

“Morbid,” Owen responded. “Guess you don’t want to try to climb a mountain in this thing.”

“Nah.” Liam played with a piece of white fringe that was hanging off of his jeans.

“You’re a very solemn dude,” Owen noted. “I really thought you were going to be pretentious or something. I don’t know why I thought that. I’d never heard you talk outside of class.”  
“I’m a quiet person.”  
Owen chuckled and snuck a glance at Liam out of the side of his glasses. “You were pretty vocal on Friday.”

Liam wanted to groan. He had really hoped that Owen wouldn’t mention that night at all. Luckily, they had pulled up to his house. Once Owen put the Jeep in park, Liam immediately unbuckled his seatbelt and threw open the door. “Thanks for the ride!” He said, hopping out and slamming the door behind him before Owen could protest.

Liam had almost unlocked his front door when he heard his name. He stiffened.  
“You’re not going to invite me in?” Owen asked, from behind him. Owen was way way too close.

Liam turned around slowly and stared up at Owen. Liam felt like he was shaking. “I-I can’t.”  
Owen raised his eyebrows. “You can’t let me in? Are your parents so strict that they won’t let you have friends?”

Liam shook his head. “No, it’s uh not that. I just meant. I can’t… I’m sore.” He blurted out.

Owen’s eyes lit up. “Oh, is that what you’re on about?” He leaned forward and placed his hands on Liam’s front door, leaving Liam trapped between them. “That’s what you’re thinking about?” He brought his lips close to Liam’s ear. Owen’s breath ghosted over his ear. He shivered. “That’s very… naughty.”

Liam was frozen, like some dumb antelope.

Owen pulled away. His smirk was self-righteous. “I just want to hang out. Seems like you’re the perverted one here.”

“Ugh.” Liam grumbled and turned around to open his front door. He held the door open and gestured for Owen to come in. “We’re just hanging out.”

Owen agreed, but Liam did not trust him. Liam’s house wasn’t very big. It had three bedrooms. One for him, one for his sister, and one office/guestroom. Liam urged Owen to sit down on the couch. Liam threw his sister’s throw pillows on the floor. What was the point of pillows that had to be moved every time you wanted to sit down? Plus, they weren’t comfortable.

Liam’s fat, orange tabby hopped up onto the couch in-between them. “This is Reginald.” Liam said, introducing his cat. He silently hoped that Reginald would attack Owen. That would give Liam the excuse to never have Owen Clark in his home ever again. The cat, however, was a traitor and immediately made himself comfortable in Owen’s lap.

“What’s up, Reggie,” Owen asked, scratching behind the cat’s left ear.

“He doesn’t like to be called that. He goes by Reginald. That’s enough of a nickname as is.”  
“That’s a nickname?” Owen looked perplexed. “What’s his full name?”

“Reginald Archibald the third,” Liam responded proudly, but then realized how stupid that sounded. He mumbled, “Reggie’s fine.”

“That’s a grown ass man name. Reginald.” Owen teased. “Does Reginald have a job? He looks like a businessman.”

Liam looked at him like he had sprouted another head. “Why would a cat have a job?”

Owen looked bemused. “Do you ever relax? You’re sitting very straight.” He grabbed Liam’s shoulder and pushed him back against the couch. Liam guessed he had been sitting ramrod straight on the couch out of pure stress. “Damn, Liam. I’m not going to jump you in front of your son.” He gestured to the purring lump of cat in his lap.

Liam leaned back against the back of the couch and stared at the blackness of the tv. He guessed he should probably turn something on, but he didn’t want Owen to take that as an invitation to stay any longer.  
Maybe confrontation would make him uncomfortable enough to want to leave. He was a stereotypical jock, anyways. A threat to his glowing social rapport would send him running. “Are we going to talk about Friday?” He wanted to sound resolute but his voice came out squeaky.  
“What is there to say? I fucked you and you loved it. I want to do it again. The end.” Owen was languidly stroking the back of Reginald’s head.

Liam, stressed and confused, stood and wandered into the kitchen. He leaned against the granite countertops. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t allow Owen to come into his life and fuck it up. He wasn’t the type of guy to have illicit affairs with anyone – let alone the star of their school. Liam couldn’t deny the attraction he felt for Owen. He had enjoyed what had happened, existential crisis aside. He just needed to go in there and end it. It was too much stress. Besides, it wasn’t like Owen was jumping at the chance to become boyfriends with Liam.

That was it. He was going to go in and tell Owen to fuck off. Liam walked back into the living room and leveled a cool glance at Owen. The blonde had a smarmy grin on his face and stared back with calm confidence. Reginald had scampered off somewhere. Most likely looking for something to knock over.  
“I know what your intentions are,” Liam said, in a voice that was almost frigid. He wanted to pat himself on the back. He didn’t make many friends because of his general stand-offish personality. Though, since he had moved he had really tried to step back and be more approachable. Look where that had gotten him. “I’m not interested in a secret affair. I don’t want to have sex again. Get out.”

Liam thought Owen might have appeared affronted, or offended, or something. Instead, he appeared practically unperturbed. He hopped to his feet and lazily brushed the cat hair off of the front of his jeans. “No problem,” He said. He stepped closer to Liam and placed his hand on Liam’s head. He ruffled his black hair. “See you.” He removed his hand and left through the front door.  
Liam stood, dumbly, in the living room. He wasn’t sure what he had expected from the other, but he knew it wasn’t cool disinterest. Why did he touch his hair? Was it a parting touch or did it warn of something to come? Liam rubbed his face. He threw himself onto the couch. He wished that life was easily navigable.

He must have dozed off there because he felt his sister’s hand shaking him awake. “Liam,” she said, her voice soft. He opened his eyes to see her leaning over him. Her black hair was curled and framed her pretty face nicely. He stared up into her matching green eyes.  
“Hey,” he mumbled.  
“Where’s your car?” She asked, gently moving a piece of his hair out of his face. “I didn’t even know you were here. I was going to give you an earful for being out so late on a school night.”

Liam groaned and pressed his face against the couch cushions. “It’s broken. It won’t start. I got a ride home.”

“Shit,” Claire swore. “You should have called me.” She stood and stared down at him, hands on her hips.  
It was dark in the room, but Liam could tell that Claire was still dressed in one of her work outfits - pencil skirt, matching suit jacket, blouse, and pantyhose. Though she was normally clad in heels, Liam knew it had been a rough day because she was barefoot. She must have discarded them by the front door, or even worse, on the way home. His sister was very motivated. She worked incredibly hard and never liked to have things out of place.  
Liam sat up. Claire sunk down into the couch next to him and propped her feet up on the coffee table. They looked freakishly similar. People never guessed that they were only half-siblings. But Liam could see it. Though their frames were similar, Liam could see the differences in her face shape and mannerisms. They were reminiscent of a mother that Claire had never really known. Liam guessed that with Claire’s biological mother dead the mannerisms were Claire’s own. Claire reached over and entangled their fingers.  
“Bad day?” Liam asked, leaning his head onto her shoulder. He had always hated that she was so much taller than him. At 5’10, she was quite the force to be reckoned with. Her coworkers had told Liam that she intimidated the paralegals.

“Guy was found guilty for some very circumstantial evidence, but the D.A. had the judge in his pocket.” She sighed. “I don’t want to bring work home. Are you hungry? Do you want some 10p.m. grilled cheese?”

Although he hadn’t eaten for hours, he shook his head. He let go of her hand and stood. “Nah, I’m just going to bed.”  
He rounded the couch to head down the hallway to his room. “Liam,” Claire’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t turn around. “I’m fine.” He responded.

“Okay,” She didn’t sound convinced. “Remind me to pawn off the out of town trials on one of the other partners, next time.”  
“I will.”

“Liam.”

He turned around. Why couldn’t she leave him alone? “What?” He responded, very clearly irritated.  
“I love you.” She was standing, now. Her voice sounded far away. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”  
He nodded in response but he knew she couldn’t see him in the dark shadows of the hallway. “I love you, too,” he mumbled. Then, he went to bed.

\--

 

Liam had thought that his instance of bravado would bring him peace. He was, unfortunately, very wrong. His morning started with swim practice. His sister had dropped him off early, pledging to have his car in the shop by that afternoon. His real first period was technically second period. It was AP English Literature. He sunk into his normal spot at the front. Normally, he was excited for English. His teacher seemed to genuinely like him and didn’t mind that he wasn’t one for classroom discussion. They were going over some of the finer literary elements of Madame Bovary.   
Liam couldn’t focus on anything but the eyes boring into the back of his head. The tremors in his hands made his pencil shake. He had noticed Owen when he came in, but he chose not to make eye contact with him. He didn’t want to see the look on his face. He had almost felt relieved. He had thought to himself that maybe Owen really did just want to forget the incident had ever happened.  
Liam guessed he was wrong, considering the fact that it felt like Owen was meticulously counting each strand on Liam’s head from the back of the classroom. Liam had the next three classes in a row with him. He didn’t know how he was going to survive.  
Class passed by slowly. Liam barely listened to the dialogue going on around him. He stared at the clock and watched each second tick by. When the bell rang, he sprinted from class. He didn’t slow down until he was near his locker. He deposited his English book and picked up his history book. When he closed his locker, he nearly jumped to find a person behind the door.  
“Did I scare you?” Vanessa, a girl from his calculus class, asked. “You look freaked out.”

“I’m fine.” He said. He pulled his backpack straps over his shoulder. “What’s up?”

Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun. Dark brown strands of hair were sticking out at random angles. She was usually more put together. “Can you help me with the Calculus homework during lunch? I don’t understand it. I don’t want to ask for help in class because Mr. Burgess spits when he talks. I don’t want him that close to my face, you know?” Vanessa said, her voice full of disgust.

Liam knew a lot about Mr. Burgess’s spitting. He shuddered thinking about when he had asked a question about an issue he was having. He was never the same after that. “I can.” People usually asked him for help with their homework, but Liam never agreed. She must have been desperate but she was most definitely wearing sweatpants.  
Vanessa sighed with relief. “Thank you! Thank you! You’re the best.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “See you at lunch!” She turned and left.

Liam trudged up the stairs to his class. Could he get a schedule change this late in the semester? Probably not. He stepped in the classroom and nodded towards Coach Marcus. He always thought it weird that male coaches were usually history teachers.  
His coach stopped him as he passed his desk. “You made great time today, Reynolds.” Coach said, gruffly. The mustache on his upper lip twitched but he didn’t smile.  
“Thanks, Coach,” Liam responded. He was confused. His coach didn’t usually hand out compliments like that. Liam sunk into his seat next to the window. He wondered what was going on.

The bell rang and Coach started a lecture on the Revolutionary War. Liam stared down at his notebook and half-heartedly began to take notes. Soon, however, the notes devolved into random doodles. He startled when a voice whispered in his ear.

“Have you changed your mind?” Owen’s voice was a low purr in his ear. Liam’s skin erupted in goosebumps.

“No,” Liam hissed. He pretended to busy himself in his notes. He knew Owen was leaning over his desk. He had backed off a bit, but Liam couldn’t relax. He glanced at the girl in the chair next to him. She was staring off into space.

He had thought that losing his virginity was going to be some magical adventure. He had heard so many things about it. He had never thought he would be in this situation. Well, maybe he had thought about it. Weren’t stereotypical jocks supposed to fuck someone and then leave them? Especially one that was so obviously in the closet.

“I can tell you want it badly.” A whisper flitted into his ear. “The way you arched up against me was bewitching. You’re only upset because you know that if I want it, I can have it at any time. The thought just baffles your little mind.” A touch up under the sleeve of his left arm. Liam knew no one could see it, but he still glanced around anxiously at the other students. Besides, even if someone had seen it, they would chalk it up to old-fashioned bullying. Not what it truly was.

Liam squirmed in his seat. How could a simple touch send electricity through his skin? He refused to respond to the taunts. He was over this interaction.  
Liam’s lack of response obviously didn’t convey the ‘fuck off’ attitude he was trying to play because Owen seemed to take it as a cue to continue. “It’s cute that your chastity has gotten the best of you, Liam, but let me warn you that I am not a very patient guy. It’s hard for me to wait when I already know how badly you want it.”

Liam turned, a retort waiting on his tongue when he was interrupted.

“Clark, Johnson, while I am happy that the football team is getting along so well with the swim team, leave the shop talk for after class. I am trying to teach here. Understood?” Coach called from the front of the room.  
Liam sunk down into his seat and muttered, “Yes, sir.” The other students giggled at his embarrassment. Luckily, the interruption had given him a legitimate reason for being so bright red. Liam turned slightly to look at Owen behind him. The blond was leaned back in his chair with his fingers interlaced behind his neck. He seemed perfectly at ease. When Liam caught his eye, he gave him a wink. Liam scowled and turned back in his chair. He was frustrated. He had never been called out in class before. He was a model student.  
At that point, Liam was sure that Owen Clark was going to ruin his fucking life. The bell rang and the class shuffled out and onto lunch or to their next class. Liam sank down into his seat. Mrs. Flores had her back to the class and was writing formulas on the board. Liam could relax knowing that there would be no talking in that class. When the bell rang again, Mrs. Flores delicate voice entranced the class with descriptions of objects causing translational motion of other objects.

Being watched was excruciating. It made his spine tighten. He couldn’t relax. Just like in his last class, he could barely listen to the lecture. He tried his hardest to pour himself into his notes. He was apprehensive. He wasn’t afraid. There was electricity under his skin. It reacted whenever he was near to Owen. It reacted without his consent. It made him anxious. He knew it was only a matter of time before Owen exploited that reaction.  
The bell rang. Liam startled from where he was sitting. How had class ended so quickly? He could see Owen lingering outside of the door. Waiting.

“Liam,” Mrs. Flores said. Liam’s attention shifted to her. She came to stand next to his desk. His classmates were gone.  
“Mrs. Flores,” Liam responded, looking up at her. He closed his notebook quickly. It was bad enough he had gotten in trouble in history. He didn’t want to get in trouble for being spaced out.

“Are you doing okay?” She asked, leaning against the desk beside him. She was a kind teacher but had no issues calling out students for doing something stupid.

“I’m fine.” He responded, digging his nails into the green, plastic of the chair he was sitting in.

Mrs. Flores’ eyebrows knitted together with concern. “Usually,” she said. “You’re so involved in my lessons. You seem off, today. Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Liam repeated, standing quickly. His chair squeaked on the linoleum. “Thank you for your concern.” He shoved his notebook into his backpack and fled from the classroom. The hallway was deserted. He started towards the cafeteria. All Liam had to do was make it through lunch and then he was clear for the rest of the day. Well, until tomorrow, when he had to do the whole thing over again. He rubbed his eyes. What was he going to do? He couldn’t avoid Owen forever. Plus, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to avoid him.

“Liam.”

Liam nearly panicked when he heard Owen’s voice over his shoulder. He whipped around, ready to face him, but there was no one behind him. He had always hated this part of campus. The rooms were dilapidated due to a lack of funding. Some of the classrooms were left unusable due to water damage, or something. The administration had been vague about what was really going on in those rooms. There was no one in the hallway. He sighed. His mind was playing tricks on him.

A hand gripped the back of his backpack and yanked him into a janitor’s closet. His eyes tried to adjust to the dark room. The door slammed shut behind him. He backpedaled trying to make it to the door.  
“Calm down,” Owen’s voice called through the darkness. “I just wanted to get you alone.”  
Shit.


	3. I'm Already Messed Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!! Sorry, I work a ton and writing has evaded me. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Liam’s skin felt overstuffed. It was like his skin would burst at the smallest incision. He bit down on his bottom lip and swallowed down the scream that was building within his throat. Liam had never thought specifically about how he would die. Sure, he was afraid of some things, but it never quite translated over to the panic he had felt when his parents’ car had swerved off of the road. In this instance, however, he felt a panic that mimicked that feeling. The smell of mildew filled his nostrils and he struggled to make out the details of Owen’s face. Liam’s shoulders were tense with fear and he refused to notice the way his hands slightly trembled. He waited until his eyes grew accustomed to the light.

“What the fuck?” Liam hissed, trying to keep his voice as steady and as sinister as possible given the panic that was threatening to raise his voice a few octaves. He could hear it, however, beneath his voice. The scratchy, panicked squeal of an animal caught in a trap. “Are you fucking psychotic?”

A light flickered on overhead. It was fluorescent and barely lit up the room. Liam blinked, slowly, trying to readjust once again. Liam’s eyes traced over Owen’s face. The other had the gall to look sheepish.

“Sorry,” Owen said in one breath. He rubbed the back of his neck with one large hand. “I know this seems scary,” he started.

Liam interrupted him. “Seems scary?” He sneered. “This is fucking scary. You have me cornered in an unused part of the school with your gigantic body blocking the only exit.”

Owen flinched, mouth parted. Liam tried not to stare as Owen’s pink tongue flicked out to wet his dry lips. There was a flush rising in Owen’s cheeks. Liam wanted to curse and kick. It was unfair that the other could look that attractive. Was it too late to call his sister to pick him up?

Owen, looking much like an admonished golden retriever, stepped away from the door. Liam eyed the door hesitantly. Was this a trap? If he rushed to the door, would Owen stop him? He turned his gaze to Owen. He didn’t look particularly predatory, but Liam wasn’t the best judge of character. Liam felt a bit guilty, watching Owen stand there.

“I’m sorry,” Owen said. He wiped his hands on the sides of his jeans. He looked extremely out of his element. It was so different from the calm confidence Liam had seen before. “I just wanted to talk to you.” Liam scowled at the sincerity in his voice. What was happening to him? Why couldn’t he just tell him to get the fuck out of his life?

Liam shifted closer to the door and crossed his arms over his chest. Although he felt kind of bad, he still understood that he was in a fucking janitor’s closet. “This isn’t how you talk to someone.” He responded, trying to sound as frustrated as possible. If he was honest, it was difficult. He found his eyes roaming over Owen’s face, taking in the freckles that were scattered there. His heart began to race. He was a goner.

“How do you talk to someone who is dead set on avoiding you? I tried to talk to you in class.” Owen’s voice dropped lower, like he was whining. Liam wrinkled his nose. It pissed him off that he found Owen to be _cute_.  
“You accosted me in class.” Liam responded, outraged.

Owen stepped closer. “But you liked it.” His voice sounded hopeful and Liam knew he could crush that hopefulness by saying, ‘no’.

Instead, his face reddened, and his mouth choked out words on its own. “That’s beside the point,” he said. He tried to keep his tone as even as possible. “You can’t just override my feelings with sexual stimulus.”

Owen’s lips twitched like he might start laughing. He stepped towards Liam and Liam immediately stepped back. Owen followed him step for step until Liam’s back pressed against a wall that felt uncomfortably slimy. Owen gripped one of Liam’s upper arms and his head dipped down next to Liam’s ear. His breath ghosted over Liam’s skin as he whispered, “I can’t?”

“N-no,” Liam croaked, as Owen’ simultaneously slipped his other hand under Liam’s shirt and gripped his hip. It was like a hot iron pressing into his skin. A strangled his left Liam’s throat when Owen nipped his earlobe.

Liam wanted to scream. He used to think it was ridiculous that people would melt whenever someone would touch them. It was getting increasingly hard to think as Owen’s mouth moved to press against his neck. After a few breaths, his rational mind won out. He couldn’t do it. They were in a fucking janitor’s closet and he was pressed against a _dirty_ wall. Liam squeezed his eyes shut and pressed both of his hands against the muscled chest in from of him. Owen made a noise of encouragement and sucked on a particularly sensitive part of Liam’s neck. He bit back a moan and tried will all of his might to NOT feel up Owen. He mustered up as much strength as he could and pushed. Hard.

Owen stumbled backwards, detaching himself from Liam in the process.

Liam couldn’t tell what was louder, the heartbeat in his chest or his rapid breathing. He was trembling, he noticed. He was such a pussy. God. He managed to steady the tremble in his voice enough to hiss, “This is what I’m talking about. I thought what happened was a one-time thing.”

Owen frowned, but kept his distance. “I don’t want it to be. Can’t you tell?”

Liam’s head spun with one million thoughts. He could only think of the disaster that would happen if he brought another person into the cluster-fuck that was his life. “You don’t know anything about me,” Liam huffed.

“I want to,” Owen replied and he smiled. He was really handsome when he smiled. It looked casual on his face, like it was meant to be there.

A deep ball of ice settled in the pit of his stomach. This wasn’t going to work. There was no way in hell that a guy who looked like _that_ was out of the closet. “If this is your way of getting to know someone, it really sucks.” Liam complained, side-stepping out of Owen’s reach. “I’m not a guy you can fuck in a janitor’s closet.” Owen stared at him and his smile melted away. He looked almost contrite.

When Owen didn’t say anything, Liam continued, “do you have a girlfriend?” Liam’s life hadn’t been perfect, and he didn’t want to make it worse by some guy fucking him over. He had plans. He only had to last a little longer. He couldn’t be distracted by someone that didn’t put education first and definitely didn’t put him first.

Owen looked amazed at the abrupt change in subject. “Well,” he started. “It’s complicated.”   
Liam huffed and muttered, “I’m going to lunch.”

Minutes later, Liam smacked his tray down onto the table. He sunk down onto the bench next to Vanessa. She glanced up from her phone and raised her eyebrows in a silent question. He shrugged and shoved some mushy tater-tots into his mouth. He had almost forgotten that he had promised to help her with her calculus work.

“Calculus?” He questioned, in more of a mutter than an actual inquiry.

“In a minute,” she said. She placed her phone next to her tray. She had gone for the French fries. They had been out of fries by the time he had made it to the lunch line. The cafeteria smelled like rotting fish most of the time and most of the food choices had the consistency of lumpy oatmeal, but the French fries were good. It was like the school system had dumped all of things that were bad for growing children in with the French fries. Or they were only good by comparison.

“Hope you don’t mind that I sat at your table,” Vanessa commented after a moment of silence.

Liam shrugged in response. “Not my table,” he stated before taking a bite out of his burger. He had covered the thing with ketchup and mustard, but the meat still tasted like a mystery substance.

“Okay, but I know the swim team usually likes to sit here,” she responded, and Liam glanced sideways at her. He guessed she was trying to make some sort of small talk. He didn’t say anything more but kept eating. “I didn’t see you when I came in. I figured you would eventually show up here. Though they don’t seem to appreciate it.” She continued, nodding to the other end of the table. Liam looked there to find two of his teammates staring apprehensively at Vanessa. They saw him looking and nodded at him in greeting. He nodded back. She had a bit of a reputation for being a bitch and she and the other dancers were considered to be in a league of their own.

The tables in the cafeteria were long and blue with metal rods that hurt like a bitch when you accidentally hit your knees on them. Most of the varsity swim team sat at two tables that were closest to the windows and farthest away from the lunch line. Mark had made sure to remind Liam to ALWAYS eat at this table. He said if Liam got a girlfriend, she could sit there, but he shouldn’t sit at any other table. It was stupid, in Liam’s opinion, but he mostly packed his lunch and at it in the library or outside. He did eat at their table when he ate in the lunchroom. He had to remind himself that he was trying make friends and be personable.

Mark and his girlfriend walked up to the table together. They were in a heated argument, but Liam didn’t care enough to pay attention to what they were saying. Christy shoved her bag and lunch onto the table.

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” Mark was saying.

“See you don’t ever think. I can’t believe you still have this bitch added on snapchat. I can’t fucking trust you.” She hissed back.

Liam zoned out seconds after that.

“What’s the matter with you?” Vanessa asked, staring at Liam use his fork to smash his remaining tater tots into a puddle of watery ketchup. “You look pissed.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled back. Obviously sounding anything but fine. He was trying his hardest to keep a certain football player out of his head.

Vanessa made a scoffing noise and ripped the fork out of his hand. “Don’t play with your food, weirdo.” She said, placing his fork onto her tray.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He said, still upset, but he took most of the bite out of his words.

She turned sideways and tucked her left leg underneath her right thigh. She was facing him properly now. He tried occupying himself with a chicken nugget. But he couldn’t quite stomach it and he definitely couldn’t eat with Vanessa boring holes into the side of his head.

Liam tried to do what he normally did best, which was push people away. He hissed out, “guess you didn’t try with your outfit today, huh?” He turned to look at her. He felt bad about it, but he wanted her to leave him alone. She didn’t look upset in the slightest. Besides, she was beautiful even in sweats and she knew it.

She didn’t seem bothered by his comment and moved to dip one of her French fries into the puddle ketchup on his tray. Her perfume drifted into his nose when she leaned over. Her skin was tan and smooth. As she moved, her shirt slid down her shoulder. He stared, dumbly, at the bare skin there. Girls made him feel clammy and nervous. Even after all of those years living with his sister. His hands, ever the inquisitive little fuckers, moved robotically and pulled the shirt back onto her shoulder. As his fingers brushed her skin, he realized her skin was soft. She sat back up, looking proud of herself and popped the French fry into her mouth.

“Sorry,” he muttered. He had just touched her without her permission. Mark was giving him a smile that was almost lewd. Fuck. Now it looked like he was trying to get into Vanessa’s pants.

She didn’t seem to mind, however. She was giggling as she responded, “Don’t worry about it. I already knew you were socially awkward.”

Liam flushed and dragged one of his hands down his face. He hadn’t had many friends at his old school. He felt like he had been placed into a spot meant to be occupied by someone else. It was like that person was gone and he was there taking their place.

“That,” Vanessa said, referring to her previous comment, “was revenge for the outfit comment.”

Liam felt himself chuckle. “I deserved it.”

“You’re a bit disheveled there, green eyes,” Vanessa stated, pushing her tray forward until it almost knocked into Christy’s salad. The other girl gave her a rude look. Vanessa stared back as if to say, ‘what?’.

“It’s girl troubles,” Mark chirped, finally deciding to join the conversation. He wrapped his arm around Christy’s shoulders. She leaned against him and sighed. Liam stared at them for a moment, wondering what it would be like to lay against someone like that. An image of blonde hair and tanned skin came immediately to mind, but he shook it away.  

Vanessa gave him a curious look. “Girl troubles?”  

Liam shrugged helplessly but didn’t respond. What was there to say? That his girl problems were _guy_ problems? And that guy was the most popular guy in the school? He didn’t even know if he liked the guy. He was just attracted to him. He frowned. He guessed he couldn’t deny that there was an attraction there. Liam wanted the earth to open up and to swallow him whole.

Christy turned her attention to Vanessa. They seemed to only operate in the same circle at this moment. “Why aren’t you sitting over with your friends?” Christy nodded towards a table of other girls from the dance team.

Vanessa shrugged, and her shirt slid off of her shoulder again. Liam wanted to sigh. What was the point of a sleeve if it didn’t stay on your shoulder? “Liam’s helping me with my calculus homework.” She responded, and Liam suddenly remembered why she was sitting with them in the first place. They weren’t friends. They just sat next to each other in calculus.

“Oh,” Christy said, dragging the word out for a few seconds. Her gaze rolled from Vanessa to Liam. She stared at him for a few moments. He didn’t know much about Christy. Just that she was a cheerleader and was bad at small talk. He hated the way she looked at him. It felt like she was staring into his soul. It was like she constantly knew a secret but was saving it until the moment it would cause the most drama. Now, Liam decided, it seemed like she had taken some undecipherable interest in _him_. She seemed to view Vanessa as some sort of threat.

Liam had known about Mark’s girlfriend. He had seen him sitting with her during lunch and walking through the hallway, but they hadn’t been properly introduced until that night.

Vanessa resituated herself on the bench and leaned over to pick up her backpack. She pulled out her calculus book and dropped it onto the table with a loud thunk. She gave Christy a satisfied look as if to say, ‘told ya’. Christy huffed and turned to her phone. Her manicured nails clacked quickly along the screen and she was suddenly fully invested in whatever conversation she was partaking in.

“Christy, why don’t the cheerleaders cheer for us at our swim meets?” One of the other guys at the table asked. Liam looked over and realized it was Nathan, another guy on his team. He was a tall blonde with permanent dimples and an even more permanent smile. He was smiling now and constantly sounded like he was going to burst into laughter at any moment. He was leaning over the table to call out at Christy.

Christy didn’t look up from her phone. “You couldn’t hear us from underwater.” She scoffed.

“Yeah, but the football players can’t hear us over their brain damage.” Nathan responded, using his elbow to nudge his best friend Grady who sat to his right.

Grady was a quiet boy with dark skin and dark eyes. Grady didn’t say much but Liam always listened when he did because he was often really funny. He opened his mouth to comment but was interrupted by another voice.

“They don’t cheer for you because the humidity would ruin their hair.”

Liam stiffened in his seat and stared pointedly down at his half-eaten food. He couldn’t believe his fucking luck. First class, then the janitor’s closet, and now the fucking cafeteria? Couldn’t Owen leave him alone?

“Hey, Owen!” Mark exclaimed. “What brings you over here?”

“Liam left his phone in physics. Mrs. Flores had me bring it back to him.” Owen’s voice rolled over him and Liam sat, frozen. He hadn’t realized he had lost it. Where had he dropped it? A million thoughts rushed through his head, but suddenly, Liam couldn’t think any longer. He could feel Owen standing behind him. The other leaned over him and placed his phone next to his tray. Liam snatched it off the table and held it tightly in one hand and resisted the urge to thrust his arm back and elbow Owen in the balls. As he straightened back up, Owen’s hand ruffled Liam’s hair. Immediately, goosebumps erupted all over his skin. He turned his head to get a better look at Owen.

“You should be more careful. It might have gotten stolen,” Owen admonished with a fake seriousness. Liam knew, suddenly, that Owen had grabbed his phone in the closet.

Liam opened his mouth to tell Owen to fuck right off when the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Owen winked at him, blue eyes shining with mirth, before he turned and disappeared in a wave of students.

“You never helped me with my calculus,” Vanessa whined. “Now, I’m going to have to get spit on by Mr. Burgess.”

Liam couldn’t respond because he was staring stupidly at his cellphone.

An unread message notification plinked onto his screen. The name said ‘Owen Clark’.

Liam wanted to yell. That fucker had stolen his phone just to put his number in it.

Liam unlocked his phone to read the message.

  
It stated:   
  
_I don’t have a girlfriend._

 

 

The next few periods went by in a flash. If anyone had asked him, he couldn’t tell them what was taught in any of those classes. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest. Every time he started to calm down, he would think of the phone in his pocket and start to freak out again. He walked into his 8th period class, Culinary Arts, with his nerves fried.

He absolutely hated culinary class. He needed another elective and it was the only one that fit in his schedule and it was full of girls. The only other guy in there was a kid named Rhys. The teacher, a woman that spent most of her time gossiping with students, always paired them up. It didn’t matter what they were doing. It was always Rhys and Liam.

Rhys wasn’t terrible, however. He minded his own business, which Liam preferred. Liam only knew little things about him. He knew he was in a band because he always tried to get Liam to come watch them perform at various dingy venues. Liam had always said no. Liam threw his backpack by the door. He didn’t even bother checking the partner list. He knew he was paired with Rhys. They were making cookies.

“She’s gotta be pregnant.” Rhys grumbled, opening and closing various cabinets in their little kitchen ‘cubicle’. He had an interesting sense of style. He was wearing black jeans, a black _supreme_ hoodie, and a bomber jacket.

“Why do you say that?” Liam questioned as he pulled on his apron. Yes, they had to wear aprons.

Rhys from the bowl he was looking for and dropped it on the counter. “She wants us to make cookies with chips inside of them.”

“Are you serious?”

“Don’t believe me?” The other boy asked. “Check it out.” He handed him the assignment paper.

It really did say they were going to be putting chips in the cookies. “Maybe it’s a salty and sweet thing.” Liam tried, but it didn’t make much sense to him either.

“No, I just think she can’t cook. I heard she wanted to teach Human Growth and Development instead.”

“Huh.” Liam remarked before walking to the end of the classroom to the pantry. Most of the good chips were gone at that point. He crinkled his nose. The only option they had was salt and vinegar. Great. He grabbed the rest of the ingredients from the list. He was making his way back to his prep area when he heard bits of a hushed discussion between a group of girls.

“….went to his room on Friday…”

“…told her they were over…”

“…dated for… 2 years…”

“…think there was another girl in the room with him…”

He moved closer to hear a bit more. He wasn’t a gossip, usually, but he was concerned that someone had seen him with Owen in the morning. He pretended to examine the measurement conversion chart that was next to their work station.

“That was her fault,” one of the girls said.

Another girl sighed exasperatedly, “they’ve been broken up since July!”

“So,” the other girl hissed. “I guess she didn’t think it was over until he sent a text message during 4th lunch saying it was never going to happen again.”

“I’m happy they’re broken up. He’s the hottest guy in the school.”

“Liam!” Rhys called from their station. “Did you get the stuff? We’re running out of time.”

The gaggle of girls turned to give him a nasty look. Liam turned and rushed back to his kitchen. His heart was pounding, again. Were they talking Owen? Did he have a girlfriend up until this morning? Liam shook his head. He was being paranoid.

Rhys grabbed the chips out of Liam’s arms. “Ugh, salt and vinegar. These cookies are going to taste like ass. We might as well blend it up until it’s like salt or something. This isn’t Chopped. This is a high school cooking class.”

Liam began to assemble the dry ingredients as Rhys pulled the blender off the shelf. Their instructor came by and gave Rhys a disapproving look. Rhys flipped her off when she turned the other way. “Do you ever feel like she’s Professor Snape and we’re two Gryffindors in a room full of Slytherins?” Rhys asked, his tone full of disgust. He dumped some of the chips into the blender.

Liam turned to look at him. “I guess,” he responded. “I don’t really know what you mean by that.”

Rhys whipped around to look at him with a look of mock horror. “You haven’t read Harry Potter? I thought a big dweeb like you would love those books.”

“I don’t read that much.” He said, honestly. He barely read. It wasn’t that he hated reading. He was just busy with other things.

“Dude, you’ve gotta read them. They’re good.” Rhys declared before returning to his blender project.

Liam turned back to his own tasks. They were quiet for a while. Rhys forgot to put the lid on the blender and turned it on. It blew pieces of chips all over the counter and the floor. Liam couldn’t stop laughing as he watched Rhys stand helplessly. He was covered in chips by the time Liam reached over to turn off the blender.

“It didn’t work.” Rhys complained, sounding rather put out as he began to brush salt and vinegar chips off of his shoulders.

“You’re the one that said this wasn’t British Bake-off.” Liam reminded, as he brushed the chips on the counter into the trash can.   
“No, I said this wasn’t Chopped. That’s a completely different show,” he corrected.

“Yeah, well, either way. I think we’re going to fail.” Liam sighed.

Rhys shook his head and turned on the oven. “We still have one more round. We can do it!”

Rhys was a good baker, it turned out. Rhys concocted some type of cookie that included the chips. Well, not the chips from the flood. Liam had to talk the other out of that one. They ended up with a good grade.

“Do you know Owen Clark?” Liam asked as Rhys was placing their prep dishes in the dishwasher. Liam had been trying to rinse the chips from the blender glass. It was, unfortunately, hand was only.

Rhys looked at him from the corner of his eye for a second before placing a bowl in the bottom rack. He didn’t speak until he stood up fully. “Yeah.” He pushed the racks back into the dishwasher and shut the door. He turned it on. He turned back to Liam and leaned against the counter. Liam took a moment to really look at him.

He was handsome, Liam thought. His skin held a tan that was quite obviously genetically given. His dark brown hair was elaborately coiffed without looking like it was full of gel. Surely no one’s hair naturally did that. Liam’s hair went down to his mid neck and was impossibly wavy and almost always fell in his face. He had put it in a bun once, but the other guys had teased him for that.

Liam wanted to stab himself in the stomach. Since when did he start noticing that a guy was attractive? Rhys was staring at him, patiently, waiting for him to continue. Liam cleared his throat. “Is he, uh, nice?”

The look that passed over Rhys’ face was either suspicious or pensive, Liam really couldn’t tell. Liam felt like squirming. Rhys’ stared at him for a few moments. Again, there was no immediate answer. Liam admonished himself for being so eager to hear about Owen.

“He’s that popular because he’s that nice of a guy.” Rhys said. “He’s also smart.”

Liam nodded. His heart was pounding again. God, what was this feeling?

Rhys pushed himself off the counter. He looked like he was about to say something but shook his head. The bell rang. Liam grabbed his backpack and pulled it onto his shoulder.   
“Bye, Rhys.”

“Later, Liam.”

Liam’s phone buzzed as he walked down the hallway. Luckily, it was just his sister texting him.

 

_Liam. Got caught up at work. Can you swim some laps until I’m done? Or I can get you an uber?_

 

Liam wanted to laugh. He couldn’t remember a day that she was home at a normal time. He sent her a quick response that he would just swim. It would do him some good anyway. Usually, swimming made him less stressed. Coach let him get into the pool whenever he asked. The first time he had asked, his Coach had seemed so shocked that he had practically thrown the pool key at him. He seemed amazed that someone wanted to practice _outside_ of practice.

Liam rolled his shoulders and turned around. He pushed his way through the crowd of students rushing out to the parking lot. He had to go to the other side of the school to get to the courtyard. The pool wasn’t connected to the school building. Mark had told him it was an add-on, an afterthought. It was no billion-dollar football stadium, but Liam thought it fit their needs. They had two teams and a few freshmen. Nothing huge but they weren’t bad, either. He strolled out the glass doors and through the courtyard. He didn’t want to go too fast. He was hoping that the natatorium would be empty by the time he got there. He went around to the side door. The big grey building had glass doors on the front, but they automatically locked after the bell. It was mostly to keep undesirables out of the school buildings. Liam didn’t care. He unlocked the nondescript door numbered 15 and slid in. The lights in the hallway flickered on. It was the entrance that his coach or the janitors used. It was also located on the side of the building. So, it was rare that anyone tried to follow him in. He was sure his coach was breaking some sort of rule by letting him in there. He turned down the hallway and found the door that led to the locker room. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was empty, and the lights were off. He flicked them on and went to change. He pulled on swim briefs. Initially, he had complained to his sister about how small they were. She had told him to ‘suck it up’. He had gotten used to it, after a while. He pulled on his sweat pants. He shoved stuff into his locker and pulled out his goggles and swim cap. He grabbed one of the rolled-up towels on his way out. He went back into the hallway and into the utilities room. He flipped on the row of light switches that and watched through the glass as it lit up the pool.

Being in the water made him feel like he was free to do whatever he wanted. He just loved that he didn’t have anyone to answer to in the water. It reminded him of better days. He used to swim for hours in the pool in their backyard. His mother would complain that he was part fish and his father would laugh and laugh and would tell her to let him be happy.

When he was under water, there was a part of him that secretly hoped that when he surfaced his parents would be there. That everything would be the way it used to be. The smell of chlorine filled his nostrils as he entered the main room. He pulled off his sweats, folded them, and placed them one of the bleachers next to the stairs. He placed his towel next to it. He pulled on his swim cap and carefully pushed his hair up underneath. He put on his goggles and got in the pool. He was lucky it was heated. He did a few warm-up laps before moving into freestyle. He was never concerned with time, per se. He just tried to keep his thoughts from filling his head and causing him to sink.

He could stop thinking when he was swimming. He could keep it all away. He could forget about everything that bothered him. He could just exist. They ran a lot of drills in practice. He knew it was making him stronger, but he hated not being able to zone out and just enjoy the feel of water. He swam until he couldn’t form a coherent thought and the skin on his fingers looked more like prunes than anything else. He stopped at the end of the lane, hands trying to grip at the concrete that surrounded the pool. After a few fumbling seconds, he managed to get enough purchase to actually pull himself up and out of the pool. He ripped off of his goggles and laid back against the ground. His feet were still dangling in the pool. He was panting heavily and flung one arm over his eyes and the other fell down to his side, still gripping his goggles. He had overdone it. Again.

He was happy to lay there for hours on the concrete, even though it was uncomfortable. And he probably would have, if he wasn’t interrupted. There were footsteps approaching. “Fuck,” he grumbled. He pulled his arm away from his eyes but kept them squeezed shut. He let go off of his goggles and reached to pull off his swim cap. It wasn’t an easy task to manage while laying down, but he managed. He was going to be in a lot of trouble if someone found him like this. They always warned them about doing too much and hurting yourself. The footsteps stopped next to his head. He peeled his eyes open. He was still trying to get his heartbeat and breathing under control. He bet he looked absolutely ridiculous.

So, it only made sense that the person he had been actively avoiding had found him once again. Owen was peering down at him curiously. It took all of Liam’s self-control not to just roll back into the water and swim to the other side. He sat up, instead.

“Don’t you have football?” Liam asked, trying to figure out why Owen was in the natatorium in the first place.

“It’s over. I saw that the lights were on from the field house and I had an inkling that you were in here.” Owen responded, voice even. Owen outstretched his hand to help Liam to his feet. Liam ignored the hand and shakily pulled himself to his feet. It was a mistake, he noticed, as he felt himself start to fall over. A strong grip steadied him. “How long have you been in here?” Owen asked. Liam looked up into Owen’s face and immediately furrowed his brows. Owen looked frustrated. Liam immediately squirmed out of the other’s grip. He didn’t want to sit under that gaze for very long. It made his stomach flip. He pushed himself to walk over to the bleachers and grab his towel. He wiped off his face. He tried, with much difficulty, to ignore the person behind him.

“Are you going to answer me?” Owen was behind him again, voice unbearably close.

Liam didn’t turn and kept drying off his body. In a way that Liam was starting to think as ‘Owen-esque’, Owen sat on the bleacher immediately in front of him. Liam couldn’t avoid him unless he moved out of the way. Unfortunately, there wasn’t many places for Liam to escape to and he didn’t feel like he could really go anywhere else. Liam shrugged in response.

Owen’s blue eyes traced his face. His gaze softened and he sighed. It was a long sound, tinged with defeat. “You should sit down. You look like you could pass out at any moment.” With that statement, he reached forward and grabbed Liam by the arm.

Liam looked down at the hand as if it offended him. “I want nothing from you. Don’t you get it?” He hissed, wrenching his arm from Owen’s light grip. He squeezed his eyes shut as stars made sparkled in his vision. Owen was gripping him again, but this time, he was grabbing both arms. He pulled Liam and manhandled him. Liam made a noise that was extremely undignified as he found himself sitting across Owen’s lap. He was sitting on both of his legs. One large arm braced his back and another wrapped around his middle. Liam moved, slightly, testing to see exactly what Owen would do if he tried to break free. Owen’s arms tightened around him slightly. Liam could feel a flush darkening his face and neck. He could feel Owen’s heat all around him. He could feel the roughness of Owen’s jeans digging his thighs. Not knowing what else to do, Liam placed his arm behind Owen’s neck. They were dangerously close together. Liam stared off to the other side, trying to look anywhere other than Owen’s face. It was then that he noticed he was shaking. The hand around his stomach reached up and pulled his chin back in Owen’s direction. Liam stared down at the those blue eyes and handsome face. The hand released him and wrapped back around him. Liam didn’t know what to do. So, he sagged sideways and sandwiched his face between his own arm and against Owen’s neck. His other hand had been laying numbly on his lap. He reached and gripped onto the front of Owen’s shirt.

“I don’t know how long I’ve been here,” he whispered to the tanned skin there. There were small freckles on his neck and he smelled good. Owen’s body was hard and muscled and warm, and Liam couldn’t resist it any longer.

They sat there for a while. Until the trembling in his limbs stopped and until the tears stopped falling from his eyes. Liam didn’t know when he started crying or why he started crying. Owen didn’t comment on it. Liam reasoned that he didn’t noticed because most of his clothes were already wet from manhandling Liam in the first place. One hand stroked his side comfortingly.

“I can’t stay away from you. I think about you constantly. It wasn’t just sex for me, Liam. I want to be with you,” Owen finally said after minutes of silence. Although his voice was even, Liam could hear a thickness in the words. “I want to take care of you. Will you let me?”

Although his face was bright red, and his heart was trying to break its way out of his ribcage, and he didn’t really know all that much about Owen, he wanted to be with him too. He pushed down the nervousness that was welling in his chest and the thoughts that were welling in his chest. Liam couldn’t stop himself from nodding and he definitely couldn’t stop himself from saying, “okay”.


	4. A Spark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I have been so so so busy. I have been writing a bunch! I even have a lot written for the next chapter. I appreciate your support! I kind of didn't proofread the last half. Sorry.

Something shifted between them in that moment. Liam felt it but couldn’t name it. He could feel it breathing down his neck as Owen led him back to the locker room, hand hot and heavy on his shoulder. He looked for the word to describe it as he dressed. There was a flush that was burning on his cheeks and a hollowness in his stomach. As strange as it was, Owen had turned away while Liam redressed. But Liam could feel him there. Back to back, he felt his presence like fingers rubbing down his spine. He wasn’t being watched, but he was shuddering like he was.

His hands shook as he stripped off his bathing suit. He chucked it into his locker, flinching as it smacked wetly against the metal. He knew he should put it in the dryer. He knew he should do a lot of things, but he didn’t. Sure, his locker would smell, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His heartbeat had slowed and his eyes stung. It had been a while since he had cried. He almost wanted to do it again. He bit his lip and moved to put on his clothes.

He dressed slowly. Something within him wanted Owen to look, wanted him to turn and touch him. He tried to ignore the twinge between his shoulders as he pulled on his sweatshirt. His muscled protested as he dressed. He had done too much. He shut the locker door and leaned his face against the cool metal. He sent a quick message to Claire to let her know that he had a ride home. She texted back quickly with multiple apologies in rapid succession. She must have just realized what time it was. He wanted to write her another text message that begged her to come get him. He also wanted to cry against her shoulder, but he couldn’t do that. He was too old. He pushed himself off of the row of lockers. He called Owen’s name.

The other turned to him. Blue eyes slid over his body. Everywhere his eyes roamed, Liam felt like he was being torn open. Owen moved forward to pick up Liam’s backpack.

“I can get it,” Liam complained, trying to grab it from Owen’s hands. He gripped at the straps and tried to pull. It was useless, like pulling something attached to an unmoving force. A strong hand pried Liam’s fingers from the bag. It was nothing. His strength was nothing to Owen. Like a small child fighting against a current. There was a hum beneath Liam’s skin.

“I’m already wearing it,” Owen responded as he slid the straps over his shoulders. He smiled at Liam. It was sweet smile that lit up his entire face.

Liam was too tired to argue. There was no real use, anyway. Owen had easily overpowered him. It hadn’t pissed him off as much as he thought it was. There was something else going on. He could feel it. A flutter in his stomach. Anticipation beneath his skin. What was wrong with him? Liam tried to puzzle it out, but he was practically falling asleep on his feet. Everything was a blur after that. It was as if he had blinked for a long moment. He was in Owen’s jeep, suddenly, but he had no memory of getting there. They weren’t moving. He rubbed his eyes. Owen wasn’t in the driver’s seat. Panic began to rise within him. Suddenly, the passenger door was wrenched open. He shuddered as cold air filled the car. “What?” He protested, both hands clutching at the seatbelt like it was his only lifeline.

Owen was there, peering in at him. He stepped close, blocking the worst of the wind with his body.

“You’re home,” he replied, arm reaching forward over Liam’s lap. Liam stiffened in response. He let out a psychotic sounding half-laugh when Owen just unbuckled his seatbelt. Liam loosened his grip on the polyester fabric, it slid out easily.

“Out,” Owen urged, when he pulled back. He gripped Liam’s bicep.

Liam resisted for a moment. The strong grip made his heart beat rapidly. “

I’ll carry you,” Owen threatened. He slid his hand other hand underneath Liam’s knee and gripped it firmly.   
“No,” Liam hissed, kicking out. His foot hit against the passenger door. Chuckling, Owen released him and stepped back. Liam stumbled out of the car. He purposely ignored Owen’s outstretched hand. His legs felt like lead. His arms were heavy and useless. He wished he could just twist and bring the feeling back into his extremities.

Owen watched him patiently. His hand, which had been previously outstretched, gripped the door. Liam slid past him, as gracefully as one can with limbs that were asleep, and walked up the driveway to the walkway that led to his door. He heard the passenger door shut behind him.  
“You’re not very friendly when you wake up,” Owen noted, following at a languid pace. His voice carried through the air and slid into Liam’s ear.

“You don’t know anything,” Liam hissed back, walking hurriedly to the front door. He stared at it. It was dark out. He cold turn around and insist that Owen go home. But he couldn’t. His mouth wouldn’t work. He just unlocked the door and entered without a comment. He flicked on the light when he entered the house. He didn’t even bother pulling off his shoes. He left the front door ajar, as if Owen was too daft to figure it out. He walked to the living room.  

He threw himself onto the couch and buried his face into the cushions. He breathed in the scent of leather. His head throbbed. The door shut, softly. Liam heard the click of the lock. He burrowed himself further into the couch. His backpack, or what he hoped was his backpack, hit the tile with a loud clunk. He heard Owen’s heavy footsteps grow quiet and then loud as they closed in on his location.  Liam knew he had been found when the footsteps became muted on the carpet. Liam tensed and waited. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, but he couldn’t tamp down the feeling that something was about to happen.

“You need to eat.” It was not the response he was expecting. He let out a sigh, relaxing for a moment. Was that all? He would eat in due time. He sucked in his breath again right after as Owen’s hand firmly gripped his ankle. Liam didn’t look up, even though his leg was pulled at an odd angle. Owen was untying his shoe. Then, he pulled it off.

“What are you doing?” Liam hissed, only half muffled by the soft cushions that were pressed against his face.

There was no immediate response from Owen. After a moment, he released Liam’s foot. It smacked against the arm rest like dead weight. He heard his shoe hit the ground. Owen grabbed his other ankle and pulled off that shoe as well. He didn’t drop the foot this time. He gently brought it his leg back to its original position. Liam heard Owen moving but refused to turn and look at him. Owen gripped him by the hip, causing Liam to tense up. Owen rolled Liam over onto his back.

Liam stared up at him, heart beating rapidly and face flushed. “What?” Why had that gone straight to his dick?

Owen glowered down at him.  “You have to eat. You basically passed out in my Jeep. I had to carry you to the car. I thought I was going to have to call my parents or some shit.”

Liam moved the hair out of his face and scowled. He wasn’t going to move. No matter what. He was tired and his hair was damp and he really wanted to go to bed.

“Up.” Owen demanded. His face was severe, like he was thinking about something particularly unappealing.

Liam huffed. What was going on? Couldn’t he just sleep on the couch in peace? God, he was so bossy. Liam tried to wait him out by glaring at him. It was childish, but Liam didn’t really care. Owen was unwavering and unamused. Liam pushed himself in to a sitting position. His head began to swim. He pressed a hand to his eyes and tried to will away the bile that was trying to crawl up his throat. “Protein shake,” he hissed after a moment.   
Owen looked perplexed, his brows drawn close together. “Protein shake?”

“In the fridge. Bring it. I’ll drink it.” He moved his hand away from his eyes.

Owen seemed sort of satisfied with that answer and left Liam alone. Liam slouched against the armrest of the couch. Moments later, a bottle dangled in front of his face. Liam scowled and took it. He cracked open the top and chugged it.

“Whoa.” Owen said, clearly amazed, and sunk down onto the couch next to Liam. “I bet you could shotgun a beer.”

Liam leaned over and flung the bottle onto the coffee table. “It’s high in calorie. Practically food.” He couldn’t let Owen know that he didn’t know what shotgunning a beer was. That would be embarrassing.

Owen didn’t look entirely convinced by that comment, but didn’t argue.

“When does your uhh...” He started, suddenly taking vested interest in the décor.

“Sister get home?” Liam supplied.

“Yeah,” Owen agreed.

Liam turned to see him more clearly, not just out of his peripherals.  The light in the room was dim. Romantic, even, if he really thought about it. There were small lamps around the living room. They never really used the overhead lights. Claire hated when the living room was completely dark. She insisted that Reginald was afraid of the dark. This was a cat who spent most days in the basement. In fact, Liam bet Reginald was in the basement at that very moment. Liam sunk back in to the couch cushions and sighed, “Who knows. I think she has a new case. Bad time for my car to be broken.”

It wasn’t just the car. Liam hated when Claire had a bad case. He could see the stress it put her under. Sometimes, when she thought he couldn’t hear her, she cried. Loudly.

Owen moved and took over Liam’s space. Suddenly, he was so close. Close, but not touching. Just hovering in each other’s space. If Liam moved his hand, he could grip Owen’s. Instead, he clasped his hands together on his lap and thought about a calculus problem. The silence carried on until Liam felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. It was too much when Owen was near.

“I miss the stars,” Liam murmured. It wasn’t much of a conversation starter but Owen looked at him with interest. Liam stared up at the painted ceiling. When it was day time, and the light that poured in was organic and not artificial, he could see cobwebs on the ceiling. Now, he couldn’t see really anything at all. His mouth wouldn’t stop moving. Useless. “Used to live in the country. I liked to lay on the ground and look up at the stars every night. I always wanted to go up there.” If Liam closed his eyes, he could still see constellations. If he forgot where he was, he could lean his head against Owen’s shoulder. He could pretend.

Owen rested his head against the back of the couch and looked up too. Maybe he was trying to imagine the stars too or maybe he was just tired. It didn’t matter the reason. It still made Liam’s stomach flip with nervousness. They both stared up silently for a while.

“Do you want to be an astronaut?” Owen asked, voice searching but there was no judgement in his tone.

It was a logical question but Liam wanted to laugh at their situation. At the oddity of it. He didn’t even truly know Owen. “Maybe.” Mostly, he wanted to float away into space. He couldn’t quite articulate that to Owen.

He was being exceptionally quiet, he noticed. Their knees were almost touching, but not quite. It was odd but Liam suddenly couldn’t force himself to look anywhere else. It was like his brain knew that if he stopped staring at the ceiling, he would stare at Owen. What was there to say? His head throbbed as he thought of what had happened in the natatorium.

Liam had _cried_ in front of Owen. How embarrassing. He could feel the blond studying his face and he resisted the urge to bury his face into one of the decorative pillows and just ignore him. He couldn’t. He chewed nervously on a piece of his hair. A bad habit, he knew, but he couldn’t stop. The last girl he had dated had been a talker. She filled most of their conversations with every topic imaginable. She only required a few “mmhmms” from him and words of casual agreement to keep her happy. He felt at a loss. What could he possibly give to someone who could have anything they wanted? Not that he was in a position to give Owen anything. Owen just wanted sex from him. Right?

            Owen was the first to break the silence. “Why do you swim like that?” He asked.

            Liam turned to look at him. “Like what?” He was startled by the question and it was evident by the squeak in his voice.

            “You know, like you’re trying to punish yourself.” His voice was soft.

Liam scowled. “I’m not doing it to punish myself. I’m trying to get better.” He stared down at his hands and clenched them uselessly in his lap. His skin was on fire.

Owen sighed next to him and shifted. “That’s not true. I’ve been friends with Mark for a few years. I’ve witnessed some swim practices and some meets. No one pushes themselves like that. No athlete would risk injury like that.”

Liam worried a piece of fringe on his jeans. He was starting to get holes in his pants. He felt kind of like a small child in that moment, being admonished in such a way as he actively tried to wish the conversation away. It didn’t work. Owen covered Liam’s hand with his own, forcing him to stop fidgeting. The hand was warm on his own. He hadn’t realized his fingers were so cold. “It makes me feel better,” he said. He tried to make his voice sound resolute but there was a tremble there that he couldn’t shake off.

Owen’s hand hadn’t left his own. Now, he pulled at it and intertwined their fingers. “Does it really?” He murmured, voice soft like someone trying to calm a cornered animal.

Liam slumped back against the couch. His hand and arm were tingling. Liam stared down at Owen’s arm and studied the skin there. Owen’s arm was covered with soft blond hair and there were freckles of various sizes littering his skin. The contrast between Owen’s tanned skin and Liam’s pale skin made Liam’s heart thud in his chest. It was odd, how simply holding his hand made him feel completely off kilter. There was a feeling building inside of him. He didn’t know what to do with it.

Liam felt uncomfortable, like his entire skin had been rubbed raw. Words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, “My parents are dead.” He didn’t look up to see Owen’s reaction to the words. Owen squeezed his hand.

“I know,” Owen responded, voice soft and slow.

Liam looked up at with a start. “You do?” He asked, his eyes widened. There weren’t many people that knew what happened to his parents.

“Mmhmm.” Owen tucked the lose piece of Liam’s hair behind his ear.

The touch sent electric sparks down his spine. A gasp left Liam’s lips. God. What was wrong with him?  

His brain couldn’t handle the idea of being in the same orbit as Owen. It was like he sucked up all of the air around him and Liam was just a casualty. It was hard not to be enamored by him. Owen looked so easy-going. A bright ball of warmth in the cold. Liam glanced up at him out of the corner of his eye. Owen was staring at him, eyes boring holes into Liam’s skin. Soon he was moving toward him. Liam turned his own head and waited. His breath was coming out of his mouth in hot little puffs.

Something in the air changed. Liam could feel something tighten in his lower stomach. Owen’s blue eyes darkened. He leaned forward and gripped Liam’s chin with a strong hand. He caught his gaze and said, in a voice that was so throaty it went right down to Liam’s dick, “will you be good for me, Liam?”

Liam’s face burned bright red and he tried to wrench away from that hand, wrench away from the explicitness of his words. Owen wouldn’t let him go. Liam, afraid of internally combusting, choked out a “yes”.   
His chin was relinquished. Owen was suddenly in his space, smothering all of Liam’s senses. His mouth crushed Liam’s. Liam moaned helplessly and wrapped his arms around Owen’s neck. Liam couldn’t complete a complex thought to save his life. A part of him craved the way Owen took control. Liam had no time to second guess himself when they were like this. Owen was an efficient kisser and easily turned Liam into a moaning mess. Owen pushed him backwards against the armrest. His arm moved to grip at Liam’s ass. He pulled Liam’s hips against his own. He ground down. Liam cried out, desperate for some kind of fiction.

Liam ran his fingers through Owen’s short hair. He reveled in the moan he received in response. The grip on his ass tightened and Liam rolled his hips in response. He hissed against Owen’s mouth.   
Owen broke their kiss and sat back on to his knees, almost effectively severing their physical contact. Liam began to panic. Had he fucked up so terribly that Owen was going to leave? He searched Owen’s face. His eyes were dark with arousal. He silently studied Liam’s body. Liam opened his mouth to question him, to ask him what he found so unappealing. Liam had his answer soon enough.

Owen’s hands moved to Liam’s stomach. He made quick work of Liam’s sweatshirt and shirt, pulling them off in one go. Liam only had a moment to think about the chill in the air before Owen was back on him. His hands rubbed down his sides as his mouth attacked Liam’s neck. Liam arched up helplessly. He moved his hands to gain purchase on something but only managed to grab onto the couch cushions. Owen sucked and bit at Liam’s neck. Liam rolled his hips helplessly against Owen’s. Liam’s head was turned towards the backrest and he panted against the leather.

Owen pulled back again. Liam whined, despite of himself, looking to Owen for answers. Owen looked triumphant. “Needy,” he scolded. His right hand gripped Liam’s thigh tightly. His left came up to Liam’s mouth. He rubbed Liam’s bottom lip with his one of his fingers. Aroused, with a head full of fuzz, Liam wrapped his lips around Owen’s finger and sucked.

Owen moaned, a deep sound that set Liam’s skin on fire. His eyes looked crazed. “Fuck, Liam,” he hissed and yanked his finger from Liam’s mouth. “Your room.” He demanded and stood. He gripped Liam’s hand and pulled him to his feet. Owen’s cheeks were flushed and his blond hair was wild from Liam’s fingers.

Soon, they were kissing again, but they moved this time. Owen’s shirt was discarded somewhere in the hallway. They stumbled into Liam’s room. Owen shut the door. Liam, with an urgency he didn’t quite understand, pressed Owen back against the bedroom door.

Owen’s hand fisted itself in Liam’s hair and yanked, separating their mouths. Liam let out a sound that could have caused the dead to rise from their graves. “Suck me.” Owen ordered. And Liam, lips swollen from kissing and green eyes flaming, sunk down to his knees without comment. The fingers in his hair gentled.

Liam began to panic as he unbuttoned Owen’s jeans. He swallowed it down and put on a face that he hoped conveyed concentration. He knew what a blow job was. He knew how it worked. He had seen it in porn. He could figure it out. It didn’t take the shake out of his hands.

Still, he wanted to suck it. So, he pushed down Owen’s jeans and boxers to mid-thigh. Sure, there were probably more practical ways to get at his dick, but Liam wasn’t really thinking logically at that point. Liam gripped it with one hand and wrapped his lips around the head. It was thick and hot and tasted like a mixture of flesh and something else. He sucked. The noise that came out of Owen’s mouth turned Liam on even more.

It took him a few moments to get his head bobbing in a rhythm that was anything but practiced. He struggled not to scrape his teeth on the sensitive flesh. Owen’s hands were loose in his hair. Liam’s face felt hot. He refused to look up at Owen. He didn’t think he could handle it if he looked up and saw Owen staring down at him.

The grip on Liam’s hair tightened and Owen’s hips stuttered forward. Liam choked and his hands moved to grip at Owen’s thighs. The flesh there was hot and hard. Liam wanted more. Even though his eyes watered and his jaw ached, he wanted to be closer. Wanted to suck him harder.

Soon, however, Owen tugged at his hair and pulled Liam off of his cock. Liam looked up, afraid that he had done something wrong. Liam wiped saliva off his chin. Owen’s eyes were wild and bright as he pulled Liam onto his feet. “Bed.” He ordered, pressing his lips against Liam’s.

When they separated, Liam turned towards his bed. His blankets were still mussed from where he had left them that morning. He walked to the edge of the bed. No one else had ever been in his bed before. Well, his sister had sat on it from time to time but that was the extent of it. He could hear Owen behind him. He continued to stare, stupidly, at his wrinkled sheets. Owen’s chest pressed up against his back.  His arms wound around Liam’s waist. Owen’s chest was hot against his back. Goosebumps erupted on his skin.

“Take these off,” Owen’s mouth pressed against his ear. His hands moved to unbutton Liam’s jeans. Despite the order, he didn’t wait for Liam to move to push at his own clothes. He continued to shove at the waistband of Liam’s pants. He rolled the fabric lower and gripped at Liam’s hips. Owen nipped at the flesh of Liam’s shoulder. He rolled his head back against Owen’s own shoulder, moving his head to the side to give Owen better access to his neck. Like always, Liam had no idea what to do with his hands. Hesitant, he used one hand to reach up and grab at the back of Owen’s head. His muscles were still sore but he ignored it. He just wanted Owen closer. Closer.

It took a breath for Liam to find himself face down on his bed. It was awkward with his jeans and underwear half on. He squirmed on the bed, rolled over, and shoved the clothes off and onto the floor. Owen stood in front of him. Staring. Staring. Staring. His blue eyes trailed over him. Liam wanted to lean forward and pull him on the bed. On top of him. He also wanted to cover himself, wrap himself up in the comforter and hide from those eyes. Liam glanced at Owen’s body. He had taken off the rest of his clothes, too.

The freckles on his face traveled lower and blossomed out onto his neck and chest. He let his eyes roam over his body. He was covered in freckles. Little specks that couldn’t be hidden by his tan. On his shoulders. On his arms. He was muscled. Fuck. Football didn’t give you that kind of body. He knew that the football players lifted weights in the morning but he looked like he spent his whole life there. Man, Liam wasn’t that committed. He had seen Owen before, of course. But his memories weren’t exactly high definition. Could he commit Owen’s body to memory? Should he? Liam met Owen’s eyes. His heartbeat began to quicken in his chest. Were they really about to do it again? Was this a dream? What was it about Owen that made Liam lose all rational thought? Why was he so obsessed him? He barely knew him. And yet…

Owen moved forward. He stood between Liam’s knees. “Liam,” He breathed. His eyes were shining with something that Liam couldn’t name. It made Liam uncomfortable.

Liam turned his head and looked away. It was easier to stare at the headboard than at Owen. He could feel the heat from his body. His legs yearned to wrap around Owen’s thighs and pull him closer, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He rubbed his face against his hair. It smelled like chlorine. He reeked like a pool. Damn, he didn’t shower after he swam. It explained why his hair felt the way it did. Itchy.

“I didn’t shower,” Liam sniffed.

“That’s fine. You can shower later.” Owen trailed his fingers down Liam’s left thigh. Liam shuddered. “Do you have something?”

Liam turned back to look at him. “Something?” He responded, dumbly.

The sound that came out of Owen’s mouth was half-way between a laugh and a sigh. “Lube, Liam. Condoms. Something?”

Oh. He understood now. He pointed in the direction of his bedside table. “Top drawer.”

Owen moved away. He opened the wooden drawer and rooted around. Liam tried to think about all of the stuff in there. He rarely went in there. Owen said, “Aha!” and turned with a bottle in his hand.

Liam tried not to look at it. He had bought it on a whim once. His old friend Jeremy had assured him that it was _waaay better_ than masturbating with just lotion. He had bought it online, on a whim. He had forgotten that Claire opened his packages sometimes. He had never purchased anything inappropriate before that day. He usually didn’t mind that she opened his mail. She was the adult. So, he understood it. He was horrified when he came home and found it on his bed. He had screamed at Claire about his privacy and opening his stuff. It had taken him all of a second to stash it in his bedside drawer. Claire had apologized and promised to never open his mail again. He still felt bad about the way he treated her that day. He could never use it knowing that she had seen it.

Plastic crinkled as Owen removed the seal from the bottle. He let the plastic fall to the floor. Owen was back in front of Liam. He dropped the bottle on the bed. “Bring your knees to your chest,” he ordered, voice husky.

Liam did as he was told. It was awkward. Blood was rushing in his head. Sex was so strange. He was aroused, like this. But he wished he was turned over. He wanted to hide his face in the bed. He wished that he was being kissed. That might take away some of his anxiety. He turned his head again. He didn’t want to see. He closed his eyes and waited.

Owen had grabbed the bottle again. Liam heard the flip of the cap.  “I’m sorry,” Owen whispered. “I can’t handle it. You… You’re so dignified looking. To see you like this… It,” he swallowed audibly. “It drives me crazy. I’ve been thinking about all the ways I could drive you crazy. All of the ways I could… make you lose control.” Owen was speaking against one of his ankles, now. He pressed a kiss against the soft flesh there. He kissed his thigh next. Then his breath ghosted lower and lower.

Liam arched up. He could barely keep hold of his thighs. He moaned, a long wailing sound, as Owen tongued his flesh. Liam’s eyes were wide. He stared at the ceiling. Why was he doing this? It was unorthodox. He had seen it in porn but he had never thought about rimming someone. And he had definitely never thought about someone rimming him. Owen had turned him into a squirming mess. Every swipe of his tongue drove a broken moan from Liam’s mouth. Owen had an iron grip on Liam’s ass, spreading it apart. So he could get better access. Liam wanted to cover his face but couldn’t bear to let go of his own legs. He resituated himself, to wrap his arms around the back of his knees. There were fingers then. One, at first, and then another. Cold with lube, they slid inside of him. Owen began to kiss up his thigh. The fingers in him moved, quickly. They kept getting close to his prostrate, almost touching it. But not quite. Owen added another finger.

Liam whined in his throat, tried to move his hips to get a better angle. His cock was leaking against his stomach. When he almost broke down and begged, the fingers pulled out. Liam moved to roll over. A hand on his leg stilled him.   
“Owen,” he hissed, surprisingly angry at this delay. Man, when had he become such a slut? His face burned.

“I want you like this,” he responded.

“Get on with it, then.” Liam said through gritted teeth. He kept his eyes trained on the ceiling. He couldn’t look at Owen. He couldn’t stare into Owen’s eyes. It would have consumed him. It would have caused him to combust. Maybe if he didn’t look at him, he wouldn’t have to come to terms with what he was doing.

Owen pushed inside of him. It stung, like before, but it was easier this time around. He let go of his knees and let them wrap around Owen’s hips. It was bliss. Owen began to thrust shallowly.

“Liam,” Owen pleaded. His voice was half a gasp and half a plea.

Liam still wouldn’t look. It wasn’t until Owen leaned forward and grabbed his hand that Liam looked at him. Liam stared at Owen as he gently kissed his knuckles. Owen brought Liam’s hand down to grab at his own cock. “Touch yourself.”

Liam cried out as he made contact and met Owen’s eyes. He couldn’t explain it. It was somehow too much all at once. The emotion in Owen’s eyes made Liam’s stomach flip. Owen’s breathing was heavy and labored. His mouth was open. His tongue darted out to lick his lips.

Using his precum as a lubricant, he began to stroke himself in time with Owen’s thrusts. Owen’s hand fisted itself in Liam’s hair. Liam arched up and choked on a moan as Owen hit his prostate.

“You’re so good for me,” Owen cooed at him.

Liam’s orgasm blindsided him. He had felt it building within him but he hadn’t expected it so soon. He cried out. His mouth was open and his eyes were wide. The praise had sent him over the edge. He was covered in his own cum, but he didn’t seem to really care. Not when he was riding the aftershocks. Owen trailed his fingers through the cum and brought his hand up to his mouth. Like some sort of explicit porn, Owen sucked it off his fingers. “God.” Liam cried. He tightened his legs, puling Owen closer. Owen leaned forward and pressed his face against Liam’s neck. Then, he began to thrust aggressively. Liam jerked uncontrollably beneath him. He wrapped his arms around Owen’s chest and dug his nails into Owen’s back. That sent Owen over the edge. He came inside of him.

Liam could feel it.

 

And he liked it.

 

Fuck. Owen had practically collapsed on top of him. Liam moved to push weakly at his sweaty chest. “Get off!”

 

Owen slid out of him and rolled over to lay next to him. He was out of breath. Liam jumped off the bed and into the bathroom. He slammed the door shut and tried to ignore the cum that was dripping out of him.

 

Liam hadn’t locked the door. It opened while he was in the shower. He had been finished washing himself for a while by then. He was sitting at the bottom of the shower, letting the water fall down on him.

 

“Liam,” Owen tried, voice gentle and questioning.

 

Liam had his arms wrapped around his knees. He rested his head on his arms. The bathtub wasn’t particularly warm down there. The water felt almost pleasant against his back. He was so tired. He wasn’t going to respond. He heard Owen rustling around his bathroom. Liam wondered if he cared that there were clothes on the floor. He heard the medicine cabinet open and close. The sink turned on and then off. Liam ignored it all.

 

The shower curtain was yanked open. Liam looked up and pushed away the hair that was stuck to his face. Owen had put his jeans back on. Liam groaned when Owen turned off the shower water. Owen helped him up and out of the shower. He wrapped him in a towel. Like a child. Stupid. But he didn’t complain. He couldn’t really. Not when he was tired like this. It was good to feel like this, he thought. It meant he didn’t have to scrutinize his choices or think about anything too hard.

 

Owen lead Liam to his bed. It had new sheets and a different blanket. He furrowed his brows, “Where did you…?” He began to ask. He had seen them before, but he didn’t know where.

 

“Hallway closet,” Owen supplied, casually. Like it was nothing that he had rifled through Liam’s house. He pulled the blankets back and helped Liam get in. He took Liam’s towel and began to dry off his hair. Liam wanted to complain, but couldn’t. He just leaned against Owen’s chest. How strange.

 

“Put the sheets in the washing machine. Didn’t see your sister out there, which is good. It would have been pretty awkward if she had heard us.” He hummed, still rubbing at Liam’s hair. He stopped after a moment and looked ran his fingers through Liam’s hair. He dropped the towel next to Liam on the bed. Owen cupped Liam’s chin and tilted his head up. He leaned forward and kissed him. His mouth tasted minty. When they broke apart, Owen supplied, “used an unopened toothbrush I found in the cabinet.”

 

“Huh,” Liam responded but couldn’t form a complex thought, let alone a witty response.

 

“Sleep, Liam.” He whispered, softly urging Liam to lie back on the bed.

 

Liam sunk down into the pillows. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open. Owen covered him up. He turned towards the door. Liam moved faster than he thought he could and grabbed Owen by the hand. Owen turned back to look at him.

 

“Are you leaving?” His voice sounded small. Almost far away. Liam didn’t want him to leave. He wanted him to stay.

 

Owen squeezed Liam’s hand gently before turning towards the door. Liam’s hand fell when it was released from Owen’s grip. He was going to leave anyways. Liam rolled over to face the wall.

 

The light flicked off. Liam waited for the sound of the bedroom door opening, but it didn’t. The bed sagged from added weight. Owen pressed up against him. “I’ll stay,” he whispered in Liam’s ear.

 

\--

 

Liam thought that the monotony of existence never truly went away. Even in times of great excitement, there was always an after. After, it seemed, came just as quickly as life’s pleasures and lasted for twice as long. His alarm clock came to life at 6:30 am. He rolled over and searched blindly for the snooze button. He managed to turn it off, but not until after he knocked something off the nightstand. He groaned. Blurry eyed, he pulled himself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. The light blinded him when he flicked it on and he stared dumbly at his reflection. It was as if he never really recognized himself in the morning. It always took time to gain real, functioning consciousness.

His eyes finally adjusted. He brushed his hair. He tried to get it to look semi-tamed, but it stuck out at odd angles. He really needed a haircut. He thought about how his sister was probably on her third cup of coffee. Nothing felt amiss. It was just another day of school. It wasn’t until he was in the middle of brushing his teeth that he realized there were shoes on the floor that didn’t belong to him. Usually when he brushed his teeth, he wandered around the room and pulled on pants or stared at the various posters he had hanging on his wall. He stumbled over these shoes by mistake. It took a good minute of staring at them, toothbrush hanging precariously out of his mouth, for him to remember the exactly what had happened the night before.

He ran back to the bathroom to spit. He was sore. It was deep in his muscles and throbbed in a way that made him blush. Strange. He shouldn’t have swam that much. He also shouldn’t have let Owen into his home, but that was a problem that he didn’t want to think about too much. He dressed. He found jeans in a pile of clothes near his desk. They were clean (he hoped). He pulled on a long-sleeved shirt and a sweatshirt.

Thinking in the morning felt like moving through sludge. He was not a morning person whatsoever. His sister found him to be extremely bitter in the early morning. He didn’t blame her. Thoughts of his sister brought him to thoughts of Owen. They were unfortunately connected, now. Liam wasn’t sure when Claire had gotten home the night before, but he distinctly remembered hearing the garage door sometime in the night. Where was Owen? Had he run out without his shoes? Also, weren’t some of Liam’s clothes on the couch? That wasn’t particularly weird, but it might be suspicious if Claire found them.

He stood in front of his bedroom door for a few minutes. He hoped that maybe he wouldn’t actually need to come out. Time began to tick by and panic started to well up inside of him. He needed someone to take him to school. Owen must be out there somewhere. Or maybe he really did leave without his shoes. He opened his door and peered out. There was no one in the hallway. He crept out, feet quiet on the soft carpet.

He stopped by a photo of his parents on their wedding day that was hanging outside of Claire’s bedroom door. He stared at it. He always paused to look at them. He wondered now how they would feel about what he was doing. Their smiles gleamed back at him, forever frozen in happiness. The moment passed and he moved away. He was too sick, suddenly, to stare at them any longer.

There were noises in the kitchen. There were voices, too. His heart beat loudly in his chest. What was he going to find in the kitchen? There was a smell of freshly cooked food in the air. He thought he was imagining it at first, but as he crept closer, the smell grew. He could also smell coffee. That was unusual. Claire needed multiple cups to be personable in the morning. Maybe Claire had brought someone over? He almost laughed at the thought as he neared the archway that connected the kitchen and the living room. Claire never had time for men. And if she did, they definitely didn’t stay for breakfast and conversation. He tried to peer in and size up what was going on before he was seen. Unfortunately, Claire saw him first.

“Liam!” Claire exclaimed, catching sight of him sulking near the doorway.

Feeling like a child who had been caught out of bed in the middle of the night, he slid into the kitchen with a sheepish look on his face. Claire was leaned up against the counter next to the sink. She was cradling a cup of coffee in her hands. Her lipstick was smudged on the rim. The tile was cold against his feet. He almost bolted when he caught Owen staring at him from in front of the oven. He was wearing a completely different outfit than yesterday. Liam’s brain couldn’t figure that one out and stared at him, blankly, for a few seconds without saying anything. He was holding a mug that said “World’s Best Litigator” on the front. Strange. It was odd seeing Owen with his sister.

“Good morning,” He said, the picture of calm. His eyes were sparkling with barely hidden mischief. Liam guessed he was getting maximum amusement from Liam’s discomfort.

“I can’t believe you two slept together. I thought boys didn’t do that after middle school.” His sister said, drawing Liam’s attention immediately.

“What?” Liam asked incredulously. He looked back at Owen with his mouth hanging open. He was sure his face was bright red. Fuck. How had he just casually said that to his sister? Why wasn’t she freaking out? Why was Owen so calm? His sister wasn’t prejudiced, but she probably wouldn’t want to know that tidbit of information. Owen was hiding his smile behind his mug of coffee.

“You’re so weird, I swear. Why wouldn’t you let him sleep in the guest room?”

Oh. He turned back to look at her. She had a perplexed look on her face. She smoothed down the creases on her pencil skirt. He felt dumb. Of course she didn’t know.

“I wasn’t going to make him sleep on the futon in _your_ office,” he complained. That made sense, he thought. He moved over to kitchen table and slunk down into one of the chairs. He had to do something. He couldn’t just stand like an idiot in the middle of the kitchen. He could, however, _sit_ like an idiot in the middle of the kitchen. Reginald made his appearance, then. A needed distraction, he wandered in, yowling loudly. He made his way to rub up against Owen’s legs (traitor).

“Your son’s here,” Owen announced. He set his cup down on the counter and moved rub Reginald’s head.

“He likes you, huh?” Claire looked amused. “He’s kind of finicky. Doesn’t really like many people.” Claire placed her cup on the counter and leaned forward to pick up Reginald when he made his way towards her. She held him like a baby. “Just like Liam! Aren’t you, Reginald?” She pressed a kiss between his ears.

Liam flushed and scowled. He turned his angry look at Owen. He was going to ask him when he was going to leave, when Claire spoke again.   
“You car is going to take a few weeks or so to fix. They said something was wrong with the engine or something.” Reginald jumped out of Claire’s arms. She brushed cat hair off of her top. “They have to order a part. I was really trying to pay attention to what he was saying. He had this accent and my other line was beeping and someone was standing in my office.”  

Liam groaned, crossed his arms on the table, and buried his face in his arms. What was he going to do? He heard Reginald fling himself down onto the table. Liam reached out blindly to stroke his fur. He groaned into his other arm. He was sore. He was tired. Maybe he should play sick and let Claire call the school to say he wasn’t coming in.

“Sorry, Liam.” She said, her voice soft. He heard her heels clack on the tile. He heard her remove the coffee pot. She poured the coffee into her travel mug. He guessed she was leaving for work. It was too early for her to go.

Liam sat up and  turned to truly look at Claire. Her hair was up in a ponytail. She hadn’t slicked back the strands like she normally did. Wisps of hair stuck out at odd angles. She was dressed in a black pencil skirt with a red, frilly blouse tucked into it. She must have pulled that thing from the recesses of her closet. He had never seen her wear that before. There were dark circles under her eyes. She had tried to cover them up, but he could see them. He was so selfish. He was so worried about his own issues that he had completely forgotten that his sister was a human being. They didn’t fight as much as normal siblings.

“It’s okay,” he said, pointedly not looking in Owen’s direction.

“I’m just glad Owen offered to drive you. We picked up a pro-bono case against a big business that did some ecological damage.” Claire grabbed her blazer from the counter and slid it on.

Liam sat up at that. “He did?” He shot an accusing glance at Owen. The smarmy jerk just shrugged at him.

“Yeah,” She said, dumping a sugar packet into her coffee. She stirred it and popped on the lid. “It’s really nice of him. I tried to argue but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. You’ve got a good friend here. You’ll need to take him to dinner to thank him.” She turned to Owen and smiled.

“Sure,” he muttered in response. “It’s very nice of him.” He parroted, mouth moving and letting the approved words fly right out. He couldn’t say no to her. Not when she was so stressed.

Claire smiled approvingly. She looked like she wanted to say more, but she was cut off by her phone ringing. She answered it, looked alarmed, and rushed out of the kitchen with a quick wave in Liam’s direction. Her footsteps faded when she entered the garage.

Owen shifted this time. When the sound of the garage door had long since faded, he stepped towards Liam. His movements were almost hesitant. He caught Liam’s face in his hands and turned his head up to look at him. His thumbs rubbed circles against Liam’s cheeks. He leaned forward. Liam, wanting to be kissed, let his eyes slide shut. Hot breath puffed against his lips. Liam opened his eyes, just barely, to see what was happening. But Owen was just looking at his upturned face. Was Liam really asleep? Was this just some sort of exhaustion induced nightmare?  Frustrated, Liam yanked his face out of Owen’s hands.

Owen didn’t seem to mind. He straightened and smiled down at him. “You want some eggs?”

Eggs? Did they even own eggs?


	5. Vexation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhhh. So, this kind of ended up getting a little weird. Sorry haha. I tagged this as underage originally, but I forgot I made them 18. So, oops.

They did own eggs. They owned eggs that weren’t even expired. Liam had checked. Then double checked. Finally, he made Owen crack an egg over the sink to test that it wasn’t rotten. Owen humored his request but commented that it was a waste of a perfectly good egg. Owen could cook, Liam learned as he shoved pieces of fried egg into his mouth. Even if Owen’s cooking skills were only composed of frying eggs, Liam thought it was still impressive. Liam explained, in a tone that was almost clinical, that his sister definitely could not cook. She only subsisted on cereals that contained 500% of a human’s daily recommended sugar limit. Owen had laughed at that. He didn’t care that Liam was very much concerned for Claire’s health. He looked at Liam strangely when Liam had asked him to teach Claire how to cook.

Owen drove him to school. Which was better than the alternative of walking or riding his bicycle. He was pretty sure his bike was missing a handlebar and maybe the front wheel. He never rode the bus. He couldn’t stand the way it jerked and bumped around. They didn’t talk much in the car. Liam felt something akin to nervousness building in his chest as time ticked by. Whenever Owen tried to initiate conversation, Liam just mumbled in response until Owen gave up. When they made it to school, they sat in the jeep for a few minutes. The parking lot was deserted. Liam played with his seatbelt buckle.

  
“What will happen when we go to school?” Liam asked, almost hesitantly. He didn’t want everyone to know what was going on with them. But he also didn’t want to be ignored or thrown to the side. His brain was on overdrive with the contradictory statements that were whizzing through his head. What did he want? To be close or to run away? He understood himself sometimes in a way that was perhaps a bit too reflective. Running away was the easier route. It was practically a time honored tradition at this point in his life.

Owen pushed his sunglasses up and onto the top of his head. Blond hair stuck up underneath the plastic at odd ends.  He fussed with it in the mirror until the hair laid down obediently. It took his time responding, as if he couldn’t decide how to answer. Liam wondered how someone like Owen could be interested in him. Owen’s features, while defined, were soft in a way that was both handsome and approachable. Liam, however, had a jaw and cheek bones that were almost severe in their sharpness. A kid had once accused him of being “gaunt”. His sister had laughed at him when he had told her. She had thought it was hilarious that someone in public school even knew that word. She had dried up whenever Liam began to cry. He had been young at that time. He was older now. He thought he had grown into his features, but maybe he was wrong. He knew he wasn’t _gaunt_ but he was sharp. It frustrated him. He wanted to be soft.

Owen had finished messing with his glasses. With them gone, he turned and looked at Liam in the eyes. A song played in the background. It was stuck at a volume where he could hear words being spoken, but it was too low decipher their meaning. Owen opened his mouth to speak. Liam tried to focus on him, but the sound from the radio was distracting.

“I’ve gotta,” he muttered, leaning forward with a hand poised to turn the dial. Owen caught his hand before it could make contact with the stereo. He tried to pull his hand from Owen’s grasp. It was firm but not painful. Liam stared at their hands. He was trembling. His mind flashed back to the night before. A voice whispered in his head like a phantom, _I’ve been thinking of all the ways I could make you lose control._

Liam wanted to laugh. He already lost any semblance of control he might have possessed.

“Liam, I-”

He straightened and yanked his hand from Owen’s. Owen, while not looking exactly pleased, allowed it. Liam was suddenly bombarded with lascivious images. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to shake the thoughts from his head.

“What’s going on in your head, Liam?” Owen questioned. When Liam opened his eyes, Owen was still staring at him.

Liam didn’t respond. He stared shyly into his lap. His fingers spread around his kneecaps and rubbed at them. They were at a standstill. He didn’t know what to say. It still felt surreal. He sucked his bottom lip in to his mouth and chewed on it. He bit into it until the taste of blood filled his mouth.

“Don’t do that,” Owen hissed, gripping Liam by the back of his neck. It made his skin tingle. The grip was firm.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, tongue flicking out to ease the sting.

“You can.” Owen responded and he released Liam’s neck. He looked down at his hand and wiggled his fingers. The look on his face was thoughtful.

Liam turned to look out the window. He could see the natatorium in the distance. He could fling himself out of the car and make a run for it. Sure, it would probably seem strange to anyone who was on campus. If anyone questioned him about it, he could say he was warming up for his swim. Most of the students on campus had no idea how swim team worked, let alone the intricacies of their workouts.

“I can see you thinking, Liam.”

A nastiness built within him. Liam couldn’t stop it. It slid out of his mouth in a hiss, “funny how I never see you thinking”. Liam flinched and immediately grabbed at his face.

Owen hmm’d in response.

Liam reached for the door handle, determined to make a break for it. The lock on the door clicked. Liam turned, outraged, to look at Owen. Of course, Liam knew that he could easily unlock the door from the passenger side.

Owen fixed him a stern look. “That type of reaction won’t get you what you so desperately want.”

Liam stared. What did he want? “I – I don’t understand.”

“You will,” was all he said in response. He unlocked the doors. “Go to practice, Liam. We’ll be seeing each other.”  
           

Practice passed in a flash. Liam had made it to class with every intention of focusing dutifully on his studies. Like a lovesick tween, Liam began to watch Owen. He watched Owen from the sides of his eyes as he came in to class. Liam hoped he didn’t look particularly creepy. He avoided Owen’s eyes whenever they seemed to look at him. Liam still hadn’t puzzled out their previous conversation.  When the teacher clumped them into pairs during second period, Liam found himself almost purposefully ignoring his partner’s discussion points. He would try to pay attention to the boy’s comments, but soon his voice would fade away. He would stare at his mouth moving inaudibly. The ability to remain focused waned as Liam’s eyes moved his partner’s face to drift over to Owen. Liam’s brain didn’t like irrationality. Liam could only think of his current affliction as an infection. Surely there was something wrong with him. He wasn’t used to staring longingly at someone. Liam wasn’t sure he learned anything about the lesson, that day, but he seemed to have Owen’s profile burned into his brain. Owen did not look at him during this time. He was very much enraptured by his partner’s comments.

His classes tumbled by. Focus was fleeting. He ate his lunch in the library. There was something hot up underneath his skin. There was something he wanted, needed, but his mouth couldn’t find the words. When Owen came near him, Liam found any excuse to be away from him. His avoidance didn’t last the entire day. Owen had cornered him in the hallway and demanded that he sit in the stands during his football practice. Owen’s tone was absolute. After school, Liam trudged to the fieldhouse and climbed into the bleachers that were next to the practice field. He slouched against the cold metal. Football was a stupid sport. Only a dumb sport would have two-a-days. Liam began his Physics homework. Every once in a while, he would glance up to search for Owen’s number.

At the end of practice, Owen, freshly showered and dressed in school clothes, beckoned him down from the stands.

 Liam took his time packing his bag. He thought Owen should suffer a little. He descended the bleachers in a way that made each step resonate with a loud clang.

“You’re kind of a brat.” Owen said, after Liam had finally made it to his side.

Liam opened his mouth, a retort on the tip of his tongue. Suddenly, he noticed that Owen wasn’t alone. Noticing the other guy, Liam flushed. It was one thing to purposely irritate Owen for his own enjoyment. It was another thing to have someone see it. Liam rubbed at his arm, ashamed.

“Liam, this is Graham.” Owen stated, clapping Graham on the back.

Graham’s skin was a smooth, dark brown. He smiled at Liam. His teeth were perfectly straight and looked like something out of a toothpaste commercial.

“You have really nice teeth,” he said.

Graham shot Owen a look. Owen shrugged in response.

“Uh. Sorry. I um.” Liam stuttered. God, he was socially awkward.

“It’s cool.” Graham responded, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his pants. “My parents are actually dentists. I bet they’ll get a kick out of knowing someone enjoys their handiwork.”

Owen forced Liam to remain in conversation with Graham for 10 minutes. He kept him there with a hand on his shoulder and the ever present knowledge that Liam had no other way to get home. He guessed the hand was just for fun. He learned a few things about Graham. Every time Liam began to zone out, Owen would squeeze his shoulder. Graham didn’t seem to find anything strange about their current interaction. He just prattled on about his love of different sports. He was horrified that Liam had never watched Dragon Ball Z. He preferred baseball but played football when there wasn’t baseball. He said he was mostly on the football team to protect Owen. Owen had teased that he was really after cheerleaders. Graham had laughed and said that he was really after the cheerleader’s moms. Liam was not particularly excited about this conversation, but Owen’s hand kept him from saying anything negative.

Finally, the interaction ended. Owen’s relinquished his grip on Liam’s shoulder and reached up to rub at Liam’s head. Again, Graham said nothing about this show of affection. He simply waved goodbye to them and headed off towards the parking lot.

“You don’t find it strange that he didn’t say anything about the way you were touching me?” Liam murmured, as they walked to Owen’s Jeep. Liam could see the blue vehicle up the hill.

“He’s my best friend.” Was all Owen said on the matter.

Liam chewed his lip. “Still,” Liam said. “You could have warned me. I had just spent the last hour in the bleachers and I wasn’t much for conversation.” Liam’s face flushed.

Owen snorted. “That’s an understatement. You didn’t have to stay in the stands if you didn’t want to.” He said, like it was that simple.

Liam stopped mid-stroll and turned towards him. Liam’s face was twisted in a scowl. “You _told_ me to sit there.”

Blond eyebrows shot up Owen’s forehead. He had stopped walking, as well. “You’re right.” A thoughtful look passed over Owen’s face. He fixed Liam with a gaze that seemed to look all the way through him.

Wanting to escape from that look, Liam returned to the path towards the car. His physics book was heavy in his backpack. He should have gone and put it in his locker. Liam scowled. He hadn’t wanted to move from where Owen had told him to stay. How irrational. Liam glanced back to see if Owen was following him. Sure enough, he was. He was looking off at the sunset. He looked almost thoughtful.

“Don’t think too hard. Your brain might stop working.” Liam called back to him. He kept his eyes on the path.

“That’s the plan.” Owen said.

Liam thought that was strange, but didn’t ask him anything else.

It wasn’t long until they pulled into Liam’s driveway. Liam hopped out without any dramatics. He was tired. The bone-deep exhaustion from yesterday hadn’t gone away. His muscles ached from the abusive swimming he had put them through. He rounded the front of the vehicle. He resisted the urge to lean against the heat that was blowing from the grill. The engine hummed. He hadn’t even said goodbye. There was a conflict in his brain. He wanted to rush forward and punch Owen until he suffered brain damage and couldn’t remember what had happened between them. No, Liam thought, that wasn’t it. He wanted to rush forward and throw himself into Owen’s arms. He wanted to let Owen hold him or use him like some treasured toy. The constant static that buzzed in his brain calmed whenever he was with Owen. It confused him.

Liam could barely make out Owen’s shape through the tinted windows. Sighing, he trudged over to the driver’s side. He stared at the window until it began to roll down.

There was a part of him that wanted to bolt before the window made it all the way down. He found himself ensnared by blue eyes and found he couldn’t move. He hitched his backpack higher over his shoulders and frowned. Owen waited patiently for him to speak. A car drove by and Liam stepped up closer to the door. “If we’re to keep doing this, it has to be a secret,” he said, keeping his tone as morose as possible in hopes of counteracting the way his heart thudded in his chest.

 Owen’s lips parted and he exhaled. “Okay,” he agreed. He seemed reluctant.

“S-sorry,” Liam stuttered, suddenly paranoid. Had he made a mistake? “I didn’t mean to uh – assume that you wanted to keep going.”

Owen stared at him with a look of disbelief. “Seriously? You’re kind of thickheaded, Liam. I obviously do not want to stop.”

Liam’s face burned. He managed an indignant scoff. He stared down at his feet, hoping he looked like someone who was extremely exasperated. He didn’t want Owen to know how relieved he had been. He nudged a pebble with his foot.

Owen’s hand gripped him by the shoulder, pulling him forward until his front was pressed against the car door. Liam’s head jerked up at the quick motion. Owen’s mouth crashed down against Liam’s. He kissed him until Liam was panting. Owen pulled away, a satisfactory smirk on his pink lips.

Liam squawked, “Someone could see!” He pushed away from the jeep. 

“Our little secret.” Owen responded as he shifted his vehicle into reverse. “Bye, baby.” He waved and was out of Liam’s driveway before he could truly process what he had just said. 

“And don’t call me baby!” Liam screeched at the back of the car as it sped down the road. With a sigh, he leaned over and picked up his backpack. He had flung it to the ground mid-make-out. He pressed his fingers to his lips. They were swollen. He could feel excitement building in his stomach. How strange. He couldn’t believe that he had been the one to say they should be a secret, first. It didn’t really matter. He knew it was only a matter of time before Owen suggested the same thing. It wasn’t like he was going to call him _baby_ at school. Besides, if no one knew, then it would be easier when Owen eventually dropped him for someone else.

Later, when Liam was nestled in bed and almost asleep, his phone buzzed. It was a message from Owen.

_Be ready at 7:30am. Gonna pick you up for school_

Another text came right after that. All it said was: _baby_

 

Liam chucked his phone across the room.

 

\---

In the morning, bleary eyed and full of protein shakes that tasted suspiciously like chalk, Liam was sitting on the bench next to his front door. He rubbed at his eyes and yawned. His phone, thankfully, had been fine the next morning. It had landed on a pile of dirty clothes and was completely unscathed. Liam, however, was not unscathed. He had spent the night tossing and turning. His dreams were filled with bright, blue eyes and brown freckles. Claire had apologized profusely that morning. She had come home at an ungodly hour. She had gotten caught up with paperwork and her partners were being ‘douches with a capital D’ she had explained, over a bowl of sugary cereal. Liam had eyed the cereal box mournfully, but he knew he would be puking in swim practice if he ate it.

“I ask too much from you sometimes, Liam.” Claire said, softly, before she left. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. She whispered something against his hair. He couldn’t hear her. He didn’t think he really wanted to, either.

Owen arrived at 7:28am. He parked in front of Liam’s house with the stereo blasting. He rolled down the window and wished him a good morning in a voice that was too perky for the hour. Liam climbed in the passenger seat and gave Owen a half-hearted nod as a greeting. The other seemed to find that hilarious. He laughed and ruffled Liam’s hair.

“Leave it alone,” he snapped, smacking Owen’s hand away from his black locks. He had actually spent time brushing it that morning. Besides, if he concentrated, he could smell traces of Claire’s perfume.

“Ow,” Owen whined, pretending to be seriously injured. “You’re so cranky in the morning.” He cradled his hand to his chest, feigning injury.

“Come off it,” Liam rolled his eyes and buckled his seatbelt. He had placed his backpack on the floor between his legs. He swiped through various apps on his phone, trying to find something to distract him from how fried his nerves were.

They were the first people in the parking lot, again. Owen parked at the far edge of the lot. Owen met Liam at the passenger side of the door. He pressed him against it. He put his mouth all over Liam until Liam was writhing and gasping against the metal.

“Sorry,” Owen said, in a tone that was decidedly not sorry. “Can’t handle how pretty you are.” He pressed his thumb against Liam’s lower lip.

“Boys are not pretty.” Liam growled, shoving Owen’s hand off of his face. He had to shove down the urge to suck on Owen’s fingers. To fight the urge to whine and moan for Owen.

Owen just laughed in response.

-*-

  
Days passed in a manner that was strange to Liam but also incredibly mundane. It became a pattern. Liam would wake up and push down the feeling of excitement that was welling in his stomach. After he was ready for the day, he would wait, patiently, outside of his front door, for Owen to arrive. Liam was always happy to see him, but always put out a façade of indifference. Owen never specifically commented on it. They would drive to school and park in a secluded area.

Whenever they parked, Liam became fair game. Sometimes Owen would grope Liam in the car. Sometimes he would pin him against the door. It drove Liam insane. He was chomping at the bit for overt sexual attention. Owen wouldn’t let Liam touch him. He would capture Liam’s hands and would do things to him that made him wind all the way up. He never touched Liam underneath his clothes outright. He only attacked his bare skin or his mouth. He would suck, lewdly, on Liam’s tongue. Sometimes, he would shove his fingers in Liam’s mouth. Liam would suck on them, making pitiful whining noises around the digits, and would try to grind his hips against Owen’s. Owen would move his hips away from Liam’s if he acted “overeager”. The worst was when Owen would pin his hands and shove his knee between Liam’s legs. He would just stare at him until Liam squirmed underneath his gaze. He wouldn’t stop until Liam became extra-interested in the thick thigh between his legs. Owen, however, never went further than that. Never got him off. Never let him touch Owen in return. Whenever Owen felt that he had sufficiently tortured Liam, he would release him.  He would wait for Liam to right himself. He watched him the entire time. Liam tried not to squirm under his gaze. Liam would have to count backwards from 100 to get rid of his erection. Owen, however, didn’t look bothered. In fact, he looked satisfied with himself in the way only someone with the upper hand could.

Owen would head to football, and Liam would go to swim practice. After that, the day would pass by quickly. Liam avoided Owen unless absolutely necessary. He was nervous that Owen would find some way to touch him again if they ended up alone together. Sure, Liam wanted it. Liam would even say that he wanted it _desperately_ but Liam also didn’t want to beg for it. He knew how he was close to begging for it. How close he was to asking for it in the middle of the cafeteria. So, he did the only thing he could do, he avoided him. He just ran the other way whenever he saw Owen in school. Physical avoidance, however, did not prevent Owen from texting Liam at all hours.

 Liam was somehow dazed by these text messages and often replied to them immediately. They were never sexual. Liam actually liked when Owen texted him. Liam would sometimes scroll up to look the text that just said _baby._ He tried to ignore the obnoxious way that his face burned whenever he saw it. When they were in class together, Owen would text him comments about the teachers or the other students. They were silly things that had Liam biting back laughter. He often didn’t respond. He was still hyper focused on his daily classwork. He found that he couldn’t check his phone in Calculus. Unless he wanted a lecture that was laced with spittle. Owen could be extremely funny. It wasn’t even in a way that made Liam’s stomach roll uncomfortably. He wasn’t cruel. He didn’t make jokes at the expense of someone’s self-esteem but had an innate understanding of the human psyche. Oddly enough, he seemed to be able to predict movements of the high school populace. He knew people in the school that Liam swore he had never seen before.

Liam thought Owen’s easy friendliness would make Liam jealous. Usually, Liam would grow resentful when he saw people easily making friends. He knew that he had wanted to experience friends in the same capacity that others did. It was hard to make friends when you were perpetually shoving your emotions down in to the deepest part of your body. He ignored the feelings that would surely come to an overflow at some point. It wasn’t a problem. At least, not yet. Liam couldn’t ignore the way his stomach clenched when he saw Owen talking to someone else. He wanted to swim until he couldn’t think any more. He warred with himself constantly. Part of him wanted to fall in next to Owen. Wanted to let him place a possessive arm around his shoulders. The other part of him wanted to hide forever. Wanted to sink to the bottom of the swimming pool. The place that those blue eyes could never find him.

Liam began to almost exclusively eat lunch in the lunchroom with his friends. Strangely, Vanessa had started spending more time at Liam’s side, much to his general irritation. She spoke to him about things he had no interest in knowing. He now knew too much about the finer points of the dance uniform. Whenever Liam would look to Mark for help, he would just shrug at him. Sometimes Liam would glance out of the window out to the courtyard. On sunny days, Owen would be there, throwing a ball back and forth with his friends. Sometimes Liam would feel his gaze from somewhere in the cafeteria and he would stiffen. With his gaze came a physical memory. He could almost feel Owen’s tongue on his skin, like some sort of fucked up reminder. Liam would try to eat, more like hide, in the library, but Mark or Vanessa or someone else would find him and force him back to the lunch room. They didn’t care when he protested about “the smell of rotten pizza”. Plus, there was always the threat that Owen might corner him in a deserted part of the shelves. He helped Vanessa with Calculus work. But to his confusion, she was perfectly capable in Calculus. When he had asked Mark about it, the other had tried to smother a laugh. This frustrated Liam because it did not help him in the slightest.

Afternoon classes would fly by. The school day would end. If Owen had afterschool football practice, Liam would sit in the stands and watch him run drills. His nose and cheeks would be red by the end. Owen would chastise him for his lack of weather appropriate apparel. Liam ignored the way that those comments warmed him from the inside out. If they were free afterschool, Liam would insist on being driven home immediately. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton whenever Owen protested about not being allowed inside. He wanted to let Owen in, of course, but he was afraid that getting what he wanted wouldn’t actually sate his desire. He worried it would get worse.

Owen hadn’t been there when Claire had specified that there would be no more weeknight “slumber parties”. She hadn’t been bothered by the way Liam had crinkled his nose in distaste at the term “slumber parties”. She said it had nothing to do with who Owen was. She was concerned that Owen’s parents would think that Claire was an irresponsible guardian for letting him stay on weeknights. The comment had brought forth a few days of speculation on Liam’s part. He wasn’t quite sure what Owen’s parents were like. He spent time imagining them and how they might act. Sure, he had seen them in some pictures at Owen’s house, but he had also been drunk. Liam didn’t have much of an imagination. So, the image in his head of Owen’s parents was an older version of Owen and Owen in a wig. That particular image had caused Liam to erupt in a fit of laughter, mid practice, much to the chagrin of his coach. Liam had to submerge himself under water to stop the flow of laughter. He would spend his evenings doing homework or playing videos games. When Owen would text him, Liam would wait at least a minute or two to respond. He hoped it looked like Liam had a life.  
           

Even though he tried to avoid Owen during school, Liam found himself in his presence more often than not. Apparently, Owen spent the last class of his day as an office assistant. The job required Owen to work with the principal. Owen said the man was obnoxious. For a while, that was the worst thing Owen had ever said about anyone to Liam. The principal, Mr. Donnelly, was a portly man with a bald spot that shined like a freshly waxed car. When he smiled, his gold crowns twinkled in the light. It drove Owen crazy, apparently. There were multiple days when Owen would monologue about the man’s teeth. Liam had never paid that much attention to someone’s teeth before. Well, except Graham. Graham took every opportunity to rib him about that, too. To avoid Mr. Donnelly, Owen would _graciously_ volunteer to drop off any important papers. For some reason, Owen often stopped by Liam’s cooking class and exchanged exaggerated pleasantries with the teacher. He would speak with her for a few moments, before wandering over and offering Liam cooking tips.           

To the frustration of his lab partner, their cooking greatly improved whenever Owen stopped by. It was hard to ignore the dark looks that Rhys often bestowed upon their guest. It made Liam wonder, but he bit his lip to keep himself from asking. He did not particularly want to get in the middle of whatever _that_ was. Other than Rhys’ apparent bristling at Owen’s presence, everyone else acted like their blossoming ‘friendship’ was something completely normal. 

There was one someone else, however.

“They’d say something if you were a girl, I bet.” Janine Platt, number 1 in the class, said as she moved into step with Liam’s long strides. The hallway was crowded.

“Hm?” He asked, looking at her from the corner of his eyes. He didn’t want to take his full gaze from the hallway. He barely missed a couple making out against the water fountain. 

“Your new friendship,” she clarified. Her tone was smooth. It held an air of detachment, like she didn’t really care but was telling him out of the kindness of her heart. 

“Ah,” Liam responded. He said nothing further. They were nearing Calculus now. 

“Anyone with a brain can see.” She concluded and promptly disappeared into another classroom. 

Her comment was strange but hisstride didn’t falter. Although cryptic, it didn’t strike a note of immediate fear within him. Liam’s intellect, and perhaps cockiness, decided that there was not a single person on their campus that could piece together exactly what was going on between the two of them. Janine didn’t count. She intelligent. Besides, they had been practically saintly over the last two weeks. Well, that was a lie. He couldn’t think about their car escapades without flushing red.

On a Friday, when the schedule was askew due to the presence of a pep rally, something strange happened during lunch. Liam was the first person at the table. He thought nothing of it. He was actually quite pleased that he was able to avoid some of the idle chatter the others occupied themselves with. Liam had a social interaction limit and it often met capacity by early afternoon. That day, unfortunately, he had been stressed beyond belief. He had given a shaky presentation in history class. His material was almost perfect, but he often shook when he gave presentations. In middle school, the students had called him a Chihuahua and none of his black looks could stop their laughter. It didn’t help that Owen sent him almost pitying looks the entire debacle. It set a pit burning in his stomach. 

There wasn’t much that made him angry. Frustrated, yes. For example, it often frustrated him when his x’s were not even. It frustrated him when one of his socks fell down inside his shoes. It pissed him off whenever someone pitied him. In his mind, he held it as something that he absolutely despised. After his parents died, many people gave him looks like that. They spoke to him in tones that were saccharine sweet and just as artificial. It set his teeth on edge. There was no need to treat him such. He wasn’t a person to be _pitied._

To make matters worse, Owen had chosen that particular day to slide right in next to Liam on the bench. He stiffened when the other brushed against him. “Owen.” Liam hissed. That morning had been particularly tortuous. His arms had been trapped above his head with one of Owen’s hands. He had ground down against Owen’s leg until he had been near orgasm. Owen had pulled away right before and left Liam crying out in frustration. Liam had kicked out and nailed Owen right in the shin. Owen’s grip on Liam’s wrists tightened and he leaned in. He had whispered in Liam’s ear, before he released his hands, “you haven’t been very well-behaved, Liam.” He had said, breath hot against Liam’s ear.

“ _Liam_.” Owen responded, tone teasing. He was smiling brightly at him. As always, completely unaffected by their sexual closeness.  

“Why are you here?” Liam hissed, staring down at his lunch tray. He had forgotten to pack his lunch _again_. The weirdness he had been experiencing with Owen had started to make him frazzled, like he was waiting for the other shoe to fall.

The noises in the cafeteria began to grow louder as more students poured in. “Couldn’t let baby eat alone.” Owen murmured and pressed the pads of his fingers into Liam’s thigh. The touch was fleeting. There and gone again. Liam was going insane. “Never seen this outfit before.”

Liam had brought a nicer outfit to wear to school. He had changed into it after swim practice. He was wearing a light grey sweater. His sister had bought it for him for Christmas the year before. She always complained that Liam never wore it. He also pulled a pair of his dark wash jeans out of the bottom of his dresser. They were cut close and often felt constricting. Claire insisted that that was the way they were supposed to look. She said it was a style, now.

“For my project.” He grumbled, spearing a peach slice with his fork. He wanted to smash it into the Styrofoam tray. But he was hungry. He shoved it in his mouth and grimaced at the taste. Definitely from a can.

“You weren’t wearing that this morning,” Owen responded. His voice was low.

Liam looked up and saw why. Others were appearing at the table. Some swim team members. Some football players. Mark slid in across from him, clearly excited to see Owen. Liam thought it was funny how Mark’s eyes would shine whenever he saw Owen.

“Is this like the reverse Godfather and Owen Clark has come to pay _me_ , a humble swim mobster, his respects?” Mark exclaimed, voice tilted with laughter.

“Seems that way,” Owen responded, voice easy.  

“He’s obsessed with the Godfather.” Liam mumbled. Mark had spent many a practice telling Liam about the intricacies of the movie. Liam had even spent the night at the guy’s house. He had a huge godfather cut-out that almost gave Liam a heart attack when he had gotten up to piss.

“Obsessed is an understatement.” Mark laughed. “If you open my head, it’s full of Godfather quotes.”  

Owen and Mark began a conversation that Liam didn’t listen to. There was a rattlesnake in his head, he thought. He could hear the sound of the rattle growing louder and louder in his head. He was practically vibrating out of his own skin. Liam knew about the maliciousness within him. He knew it came out every so often. He had pushed it down for years. He wasn’t outwardly emotional. He barely cried at his parents’ funeral. Adults avoided him for a while after that, afraid that he was somehow disturbed by the instance. The only emotion that ever managed to truly wiggle out of him was a biting anger. He had hurt many people over the years with it. Old girlfriends. Old friends. _Claire._

He could feel it building, even now. His leg bounced underneath the table. Whenever things in his life started to get out of control, his emotions began to get out of control. He felt it slipping like water between his fingers. He was on edge, almost panicked. The constant sexual teasing had erased most of his self-control. He was scolded in one of his morning classes for being on his phone. He had stuttered through his History project. Plus, he had burnt a cake in culinary the day before. His teacher didn’t care. She had become much kinder to him due to Owen’s frequent visits. Rhys, however, was not as nice. Liam had been in charge of watching the cake while Rhys went to the bathroom. Like an idiot, Liam had completely forgotten about the cake. He had been watching the door in hopes of seeing a certain blond-haired someone. Rhys still hadn’t spoken to him.

Liam should have run away from the lunch table. He should have, but he didn’t.

Mark began to wax poetic about Christy and her eyes and her personality. Currently, she wasn’t at the table. They had fought outside the natatorium. Liam had heard so much about the two of them. He wanted to bite his tongue to keep the nasty words from leaving his mouth.

Mark made a mistake. He turned his attention to Liam. “Are you okay, Liam? You’re looking kind of pale. Girlfriend won’t put out or something?” Liam knew that Mark was just teasing. He knew it. But that logic didn’t prevent Liam from lashing out.

“You’re asking me that?” Liam hissed. There it was. “Your girlfriend is probably off sucking some guy’s dick in the bathroom and you’re concerned about whether or not my girlfriend is putting out?”

Mark’s face crumpled. A black, heavy feeling of guilt settled in Liam’s stomach.

“Liam.” Owen was looking at him. His eyes were dark. His tone held warning.

Something about Owen made Liam angrier. “Fuck you, Owen. Why are you even over here? You only talk to Mark when it suits your fancy, anyways. Owen, the Golden Boy, gets to do whatever he wants. No one will ever stop him. Everyone is constantly falling all over themselves to get at you. You’re so self-obsessed.” Those weren’t his own words, Liam knew. He had heard them around the school by people that hated Owen. Liam sucked in a gasp as Owen yanked Liam out of his seat. The grip on his bicep was almost painful. 

Liam reasoned that it was shock that allowed Owen to manhandle Liam from the lunch room without a fight. If he had been in his right mind, he would have kicked him or hit him or bit at his arm. Then again, he had never been in a fist fight and he assumed he would be taken out. Plus, he was concerned about the reaction that the general populace would have about that sort of brawl. He was guilty, he knew. He didn’t do anything but allow himself to be lead away. The hand that had been on his arm had settled onto the back of his neck. Owen’s grip promised _something_. He locked eyes with Janine as he was escorted out. She was smirking at him. Panic was ringing in his ears. Other people were looking at them, but Owen was unaffected. He didn’t care that people were staring. He merely pushed Liam from the lunchroom, into the hallway, and then out into the courtyard.  He was pushing him at a pace that caused Liam to practically trip over his own feet.

Owen urged him far down the building until he had Liam crowded against a wall. It was a deserted part of the campus. They were in the shade. Owen had released Liam’s neck. Nervous, Liam back all the way against the wall. The brick was cold against Liam’s back, even through his sweater. Owen, seeming to realize how close together they were, stepped backward and put space between them. There was still a gentleness about Owen, but something new had come over him. His shoulders were stiff. He stared down at Liam. There was a sternness in his posture that Liam had never seen before. He stared and stared until a nervousness threatened to overflow out of Liam. Was Owen going to say something?

“Are you just going to stare at me or what?” Liam finally snapped. It had felt like they had been out there for hours. It had probably only been 30 seconds.

Owen tilted his head. The look on his face changed, and Liam wondered if he had made a mistake. Owen looked around. He stepped to look around the side of the building. They must have been alone because he didn’t look frustrated. There were no windows on this side of the building. The grounds were empty. There weren’t any gardeners or administration. Students often snuck off on this side of the building to smoke weed.

But they were alone. Liam’s heartbeat fluttered in his chest.

Owen looked calculating. “Liam, how was your childhood?” Owen asked, voice clinical.

Liam blinked, shocked. He could have answered this question with ‘fine’ but instead he had another outburst. “What the fuck is this? Therapy? Am I supposed to collapse and cry about my-” Liam stopped short. Owen had shoved two of his fingers in Liam’s mouth, effectively stopping Liam’s speech. Owen’s thumb pressed up under Liam’s jaw and his fingers pressed down on Liam’s tongue. Owen had an unyielding grip on Liam’s jaw. Liam choked and tried to pull backwards, only to press his head against the brick wall.

Owen tsk-ed. “Now,” he tried again. His voice had lost some of its aridity, but now he just sounded disappointed. “That wasn’t very nice, was it? When I pull my fingers out of your mouth, you’ll apologize.”

Liam’s eyes watered and he nodded. Or he tried to. Owen’s grip didn’t allow him to move his head. They stood still for a moment. Owen stared at him until Liam began to squirm. Saliva was dripping out of the sides of Liam’s mouth. Finally, after what felt like eternity, Owen released Liam’s jaw.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, immediately. Obediently. His pulse pounded in his ears. This was a side of Owen that Liam had never seen before. Liam swallowed. He reached up to wipe away the saliva on his chin.

“Since I didn’t get the answer I was looking for, maybe I’ll formulate my own guess on how your childhood was. It was good, I bet. I also bet that brain of yours gave you an out. You were bright. Any misbehavior was categorized as boredom, right? You made a mistake, didn’t turn something in, broke something, but no one truly reprimanded you due to your intelligence. I’m guessing that they thought you weren’t stimulated and that’s why you lashed out.” Owen was speaking calmly, like he was reading directly from a textbook.

Liam furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to speak.

Owen cut him off. “Don’t speak, yet.” Liam snapped his mouth closed. Afraid of fingers in his mouth or maybe afraid of the way the fingers made him feel. “No one stopped you from making bad decisions. You’re used to getting whatever you want.”

Liam over Owen’s shoulder at a large tree. A squirrel skittered up the side of it. He huffed out a breath. He hated talking about his parents. The thought of them stung the inside of his mouth. But Owen was right. They often ignored whatever bad things he did. They thought he wasn’t stimulated enough. They thought the way he shoved down his emotions was due to an analytical personality. He chewed his lip. Guilt bubbled within him.

“You agreed to let me take care of you, didn’t you?”

Liam let his eyes come back to Owen’s face. His eyes stung as he nodded.

Owen pressed a hand to Liam’s hair and ruffled it before stepping away. He walked to the edge of the building and looked out around the corner. It wasn’t long before he returned. “Empty,” he murmured, seemingly more to himself than to Liam. He looked at Liam with an expression that Liam couldn’t interpret.

“Turn around.” Owen ordered.  

Liam felt the blood drain from his face. He choked on a breath. “What?”

Owen regarded him patiently. “If I’m going to take care of you, I have to take care of you properly. I have to give you what you so desperately need from me. Again, turn around. Put your arms up on the wall.” Owen’s voice was commanding. Liam had heard that tone before. Once or twice on the practice field when he had yelled at some of the other guys.

Liam spun around, quickly. Heart pounding in his head. He stared, stupidly, at the white flecks in the red brick. Owen gripped Liam’s arms and situated them up over Liam’s head, palms flat about the cool wall.

“I think you’re aware of what’s happening by now. You can turn and say no. Though, I doubt you’ll allow yourself to ask for it outright.” Owen’s voice was near Liam’s ear. Goosebumps erupted all over his skin.

Liam pressed his heated forehead against the cool brick. He was guilty, he knew. He also knew, in a deep part of himself, how much he needed someone to keep him in control. Still, it surprised him when he started hissing out insults directed at Owen.

“You’re just a fucking pervert,” Liam accused.

Owen’s hand came down, hard, on Liam’s ass. He jolted forward, face almost fully smashing against the brick. A strangled noise came out of Liam’s mouth.

Owen brought his hand down again. This time, it was harder. Liam’s hips canted forward, almost trying to avoid the pain. He whined. Liam felt Owen grip at the waistband of Liam’s jeans.  
  
He began to panic. “Owen,” he pleaded, mortified.

“Hush. No need to worry.” One of Owen’s hands petted against Liam’s back. The hand on Liam’s jeans, however, pulled outwards until Liam arched his back. “Stay like this.” He ordered, ignoring Liam’s noises of protest.

The onslaught began. Owen brought his hand down quickly, painfully, against Liam’s jeans. The fabric muffled some of the pain, but only some of it. Tears began to pour from Liam’s eyes. He was mortified. Each slap brought a whine from Liam’s throat. He buried his head in his own arm.

Liam could hear his own pants, sobs, and almost pleas bouncing off the wall in front of him. He was so embarrassed. But the fuzziness from earlier had gone. The darkness within him had quieted. Something else was happening to him, too. The pain had started to melt into something _else_. It hurt, of course, but Liam’s cock was becoming stupidly interested in what was happening.

Owen continued on. He smacked where his ass met his thighs before doubling back and hitting areas that already smarted. Liam was almost begging by the end of it. Granted, he wasn’t quite sure what he was begging for. For him to stop? For him to touch him? For Owen to shove his fingers in his mouth? Owen finished with one extra hard hit that had Liam actually lurching forward into the wall.

“There you go,” Owen said, hand coming up to gently pet Liam’s hair. “See, I knew you could be good for me.” He murmured and pried Liam off of the wall.

Liam was humiliated but somehow, relieved. He allowed himself to be enveloped in Owen’s arms. He pressed his face against Owen’s chest. Owen rubbed his back until Liam’s cries had gentled into the occasional hiccup.

“This is fucking weird.” Liam muttered against Owen’s chest.

Owen chuckled and ran his fingers through Liam’s hair. “Maybe. But you obviously needed it.”

Liam wanted to reach out and punch Owen in the stomach, but he didn’t. Deep down, he knew Owen was right. It was strange. Liam rubbed his face against Owen’s shirt and inhaled.

“Do we have to go to class?” Liam asked, skin stinging, face red, and cock throbbing.

“Hm?” Owen asked, looking down at him.   

Liam looked up at him. “Can we… go to your car or something?”

“Why would you want to skip class?”

Not knowing how to respond, Liam pressed his hips against Owen’s.

“Oh.” He said, simply.


End file.
